"Do you know anything further of Sir Rowland?" he asked. “I wonder,” she said, “how much you care. " "Not unless your skull's bullet-proof," cried a voice at his elbow; and, as the words were uttered, a pistol was snapped at his head, which,—fortunately or unfortunately, as the reader pleases,—only burnt the priming. " "He protect you," retorted Blueskin, maliciously; "you haven't a worse enemy on the face of the earth than Jonathan Wild. I’ll get in trouble. Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. .
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