Jonathan Wild brought him off. Arrived at Westbourne-Green—then nothing more than a common covered with gorse and furzebushes, and boasting only a couple of cottages and an alehouse—he perceived through the hedges the objects of his search slowly ascending the gentle hill that rises from KensallGreen. And the fact that it was dressed in riding gear had fooled her into thinking it was her own image. If that's true, she's not long for this world. Then a surge of rage welled up. He is in Newgate.
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