Wild's orders. I next proceeded to Jenny Bunch's, the Ship, in Trig Lane—there I got the same answer. “I do want you. My name is Wild— Jonathan Wild. Funny codgers, aren't they?" he said. Remember what the conjuror said. Maternal relations. Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. '—'It's not to be thought of,' says I, thumping the table till every glass on it jingled; 'and I know a way as'll prevent it.
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