"Do you take me for a thiefcatcher, like Jonathan Wild, that you dare to affront me by such a proposal?" "No offence, Sir," rejoined the jailer, humbly. ‘There’s no controlling you, is there?’ He held up his hands. " Upon this he arose, and paced the room hastily backwards and forwards, as if further arranging his plans. Everything was very neat; it had evidently been straightened up and kept for her. His face was aquiline but sweet, the years had not yet taken the blush from his cheeks and his lips were similarly rubefacient. See how he gets on, father," he added, appealing to Wood: "the box seems to grow under his hands. "I give you joy of the capture, Mr. Get on with it, then.
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