Chapter VIII “WHITE’S” Northwards, away from the inhospitality of West Kensington, rumbled the ancient four-wheel cab, laden with luggage and drawn by a wheezy old horse rapidly approaching its last days. "To paint your portrait," answered the jailer. Taking advantage of his embarrassed position, Jonathan and his assistant rushed upon him, and disarmed him. . In a few minutes after the delivery of this note he will be in Newgate.
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