"Thames was always your favourite," observed Jack, as he fastened another piece of wood on the teeth of the iron stopper. "Heaven have mercy on his soul!" ejaculated Wood. Trodger might not need his hair dressed, but the flagon of ale that each soldier quaffed would be welcome—once his captain had departed, thought Roding cynically. So he made his dispositions and went off on some other fool’s errand. " And he hastily related the occurrences in Jonathan Wild's house.
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