‘Jacques, do not go!’ Jack gazed steadfastly at the floor. Her heart full of dread, she dragged on it. The air became hot and swollen with June humidity. "We'll give them the slip yet, and hang that butcherly thief-taker upon his own gibbet. Anyone would be intrigued. If they come here to walk around, they will hear us. “Why are you so distant? Why all the mystery? What are you, a narc? Double-oh-seven or something?” She steeled herself, refusing to react. Her head rose. She had never been so happy to vomit. "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. Not a breath was drawn.
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