I do not wish to return to Paris. This person—this Jonathan Wild, whom I beheld for the first time, scarcely an hour ago, in Wych Street, is—I know not why—my enemy. The lad hesitated. This became very interesting. “I had found her at last, and she shot me. They will guess that I am English. But he had shown no desire for information, no curiosity. The thief-taker's throat was bound up with thick folds of linen, and his face had a ghastly and cadaverous look, which communicated an undefinable and horrible expression to his glances. ” Brendon leaned over confidentially.
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