’ Roding blinked. And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. " "As many as you please," replied Wood, walking towards the chimney-piece, and taking down a constable's, staff, which hung upon a nail. They were alike in one phase—loveless and lonely. Answering him was agonizing. She had killed him. Jack is registered in the Black Book.
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