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Holding down the light, he perceived that the wounded man had risen to the surface, and was trying to clamber up the slippery sides of the well. ‘That was one of my own clever stories. I believed that she was my wife, or she would have been safe from me. Sheppard," said Jonathan, looking calmly on at this distressing scene, "Attend to me, and do not heed him. 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.
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