’ Her flesh crept. The pair then descended Saffron-hill, threaded Field-lane, and, entering Holborn, passed over the little bridge which then crossed the muddy waters of Fleet-ditch, mounted Snow-hill, and soon drew in the bridle before Jonathan Wild's door. He was almost frightening in silhouette, his hair uncontrollable under the best of circumstances, but that changed when you saw his face. "I have a token to deliver to you," continued the stranger, addressing her. Someone bounded up the stairs, which groaned from the strain, unmistakably Mike. “I had a visit from Sir John in my rooms,” she said. Crouching down, Gerald waited, hands at the ready.
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