“I should imagine,” he said, shaking out a copy of The Times, “that it is your brain which is addled. This person—this Jonathan Wild, whom I beheld for the first time, scarcely an hour ago, in Wych Street, is—I know not why—my enemy. ’ ‘But you managed to escape nevertheless,’ Gerald said calmly, ‘disguising yourself as a nun. Wood and Thames taking their places on either side of it, and Jack at a little distance behind.
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