It was you, of course, whom he wanted. But he can't have his eyes always about him, or he'd have been with us this morning at the Mint, eh, Mr. My father's chief fear, I must tell you, is from the baneful influence of Jonathan Wild. Melusine ripped strips off her under-petticoats and fashioned a pad, which she bandaged as tightly as she could over the wound, working swiftly, unperturbed by the gore. As matters now stand, I'm only a thief, not a blackguard.
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