Jonathan Wild's House in the Old Bailey. He recognized the handwriting, and turned a shade paler. She could not move. “I feel justified then,” he said, “in annexing his chair. He had only been prevented, indeed, by a fear of Mrs. I'll turn cracksman, like my father—rob old Wood—he has chests full of money, and I know where they're kept—I'll rob him, and give the swag to you, Poll—I'll—" Jack would have said more; but, losing his balance, he fell to the ground, and, when taken up, he was perfectly insensible. "If you are human," rejoined Trenchard, with stern emphasis, "I insist upon knowing whence you derived your information?" "I might refuse to answer the question, Sir Rowland. "Jack Sheppard's face is well worth preserving.
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