"My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. The lady's name's engraved inside, but so small I can scarcely read it. The Ragged Edge. “You must do more than think of it,” he urged. “Steady on!” he cried. She remembered the doctor's warning that the real battle would begin when the patient recovered consciousness. 'Received from Sir Rowland Trenchard, 15,000 £.
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