ToC Scarcely an hour after the horrible occurrence just related, as Jonathan Wild was seated in the audience-chamber of his residence at the Old Bailey, occupied, like Peachum, (for whose portrait he sat,) with his account-books and registers, he was interrupted by the sudden entrance of Quilt Arnold, who announced Jack Sheppard and Blueskin. “What have I done, Miss Pellissier?” he pleaded. They are tending to congregate, our poor French friends. He was accustomed to such surprises, and enjoyed them. Fascination. Jack instandly extinguished the light, and called to his comrade to come after him. Sheppard, somewhat alarmed by this preamble. She drank and drank until his body was a lifeless husk, as light as a mannequin, virtually hollow of all but the fluid in his bones. He waited for hours after dusk but she never arrived.
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