"My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. When in the plenitude of his power, he commenced a terrible trade, till then unknown—namely, a traffic in human blood. ” He looked at her anxiously, and she met his glance with a dazzling smile of gratitude. ‘Parbleu, but what a person you make me! One who spies.
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