A black-garbed figure crept forward, noiselessly, towards Gosse’s back. "Mercy on us!" cried he, as a thrill of apprehension ran through his frame. As for himself, there had never been a touch of it. "We'll see that, you yelping hounds!" rejoined Jonathan, glaring fiercely at them. A chill rain thrummed against the sides of John’s car, having slowed from deluge to steady patter, the snow was 158 dissolved where it lay. At present, he is under the protection of Jonathan Wild.
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