" "'Zounds! Captain, I shall get my death of cold. The pair then descended Saffron-hill, threaded Field-lane, and, entering Holborn, passed over the little bridge which then crossed the muddy waters of Fleet-ditch, mounted Snow-hill, and soon drew in the bridle before Jonathan Wild's door. His salary was a few paltry hundreds a year. ‘You will have to prove it, you know,’ Gerald said quietly. " "Well said, Jack," cried Figg.
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