"Wretch!" she cried, "you shall not force me to your hateful purpose. Michelle answered the door. "It was given me by a man who was drinking t'other night with Blueskin at the Lion! and who, though he slouched his hat over his eyes, and muffled his chin in a handkerchief, must have been Jonathan Wild. A black-garbed figure crept forward, noiselessly, towards Gosse’s back. She fought a compulsive urge to yank his shirt free.
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