About nine o'clock, an immense mob collected before the Lodge at Newgate. "I'll lay my life he's gone on a fox-and-goose-chase to Mr. ” “How dull you are,” the lady remarked. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. He seldom spoke, and drank with a persistence that was sinister. “Do you believe me now?” She asked.
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