Were I not Jonathan Wild, I'd be Jack Sheppard. Tell him about the island, the coconut dance, the wooden tom-toms; read to him. “And aren’t there fees to pay at the Imperial College?” her aunt was saying—a disagreeable question. Jonathan, who with the other constables had reconnoitred this band, and recognised in its ring-leader, Blueskin, commanded the constables to follow him, and made a sally for the purpose of seizing him.
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