"Maybe he realized that he was slipping fast and thought a fine action might give him a hand-hold on life again. Jack instandly extinguished the light, and called to his comrade to come after him. "As I could wish!" cried Jonathan. ’ ‘You’re going?’ asked his friend, and the note of relief was marked. They went to the gate and stopped there, gabbed with their men, and didn’t even dismount. The general did what he might to hush it up, and paid handsomely to manage it, I daresay. Hearing the noise of the scuffle, the tapstress, fancying it was Jack making an effort to escape, in spite of the remonstrances of the executioner, threw open the wicket. I mean—I mean to do what I can. ToC Nearly nine years after the events last recorded, and about the middle of May, 1724, a young man of remarkably prepossessing appearance took his way, one afternoon, along Wych Street; and, from the curiosity with which he regarded the houses on the left of the road, seemed to be in search of some particular habitation. I’ll have it out with him.
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