“Excellent!” he exclaimed. She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams, of Ramage. Smith's solitary orb followed in the same direction. ‘Of course not,’ snapped his friend. Prom a knot of idlers at a public-house, he learnt that Jonathan Wild had just ridden past, and that his setters were scouring the country in every direction.
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