But the mere recognition of his son’s signature was enough to stoke the fires of his long-held rage. "Dog!" cried Wild, freeing himself by a powerful effort, and dealing Jack a violent blow with the heavy bludgeon, which knocked him backwards, "you are not yet a match for Jonathan Wild. Nothing, however, could be discerned, except the crumbling brickwork. She let Jack go as he passed through the opening. I will make her my Grail, and some day, perhaps, if God wills, she shall become my wife!’” He looked very hard before him as he said this, and his voice was full of deep feeling. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. I will shed no more blood. Her father intercepted her, and for a moment she and he struggled with their hands upon the latch. "Do you think I'd part with the sweetest morsel of revenge on those terms? No! But I'll have the secret out of you by other means.
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