Not a word was uttered for some time, nor any sound heard except the stilled sobs of the unfortunate mother. "I've set a trap for him. There's a friend of Sir James—a young man, an engraver of masquerade tickets and caricatures,—his name I believe is Hogarth. An ill-lined purse is a poor recompense for the risk I have run. He died in the war.
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