He trembled violently. While he was thus standing, the flames of his house, which made the whole street as light as day, and ruddily illumined the faces of the mob below, betrayed him to them, and he was speedily driven from his position by a shower of stones and other missiles. Voilà tout. The watch was again consulted. Were I not Jonathan Wild, I'd be Jack Sheppard. The infant was rescued from a watery-grave by an honest mechanic, who has since brought him up as his own son.
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