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The pavement had been hastily picked up, and heaped across the end of the street, upon which planks, barrels, and other barricades, were laid. The pair then descended Saffron-hill, threaded Field-lane, and, entering Holborn, passed over the little bridge which then crossed the muddy waters of Fleet-ditch, mounted Snow-hill, and soon drew in the bridle before Jonathan Wild's door. I hear the splash in the water—I see the white object floating like a sea-bird on the tide—it will not sink!" "'Sblood!" exclaimed Jonathan, in a tone of ill-disguised contempt; "it won't do to indulge those fancies now. He is extremely old—forty at least—and he has a belly excessively fat. ’ ‘Yes, but I do not wish to have a mystery.
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