A light was visible in the garret, feebly struggling through the damp atmosphere, for the night was raw and overcast. ‘Yes, a very sad story,’ agreed the major. Every word you utter puzzles me. In the periphery of her vision, she saw the door pulled back. "It was given me by a man who was drinking t'other night with Blueskin at the Lion! and who, though he slouched his hat over his eyes, and muffled his chin in a handkerchief, must have been Jonathan Wild.
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