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Do you know anything of his friends? Is there any one for whom we ought to send?” “I know very little of him beyond his name,” Anna answered. He had the appearance of a man who has known no rest for many nights. My name is Wild— Jonathan Wild. But perhaps he was right not to tell you the truth. "Hark 'ee, Ben," said the old sailor, knocking the ashes from his pipe upon the hob; "you may try, but dash my timbers if you'll ever cross the Thames to-night.
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