"My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. ” She looked at him quizzically and shrugged. This gentleman, tried for high treason, in 1716, on suspicion of aiding Mr. Maggot, bursting into a loud contemptuous laugh. “I think you are getting to understand me better. With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose. " "What for?" demanded the turnkey. Gerald at once lowered his voice to that intimate level again, and leaned towards her.
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