‘Charvill?’ uttered Roding frowningly. ’ He shifted unguardedly, and hissed a breath, wincing. I am Jonathan Wild. Jim is up to the neck in Mahatmas and Theosophy and Higher Thought and rot—writes letters worse than Alice. If Jack Sheppard could behold his mother in this state, he'd have a lesson he'd never forget—ay, and a severer one than even the hangman could read him.
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