Jonathan Wild's House in the Old Bailey XVII. "Ah!" cried Wild, laying down his pen and looking up with a smile of satisfaction. ’ ‘It’s no use blaming me, Gerald,’ uttered Roding, shrugging helplessly as his senior turned questioning eyes on him. Stanley, standing up with a sudden geniality and rubbing his hands together. That boy was the carpenter's apprentice, Jack Sheppard. His fingers cherished the hilt of his sword and his eyes were on his friend and superior, ready at his back to do whatever was needed.
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