She felt her forehead repeatedly break out in a light sweat. She descended the stairs, and found herself at last in the street—alone. “Never. Jonathan Wild and his bloodhounds, with a hundred others, incited by the reward, will be upon my track. They decided quite audibly, “She’s an Old Dear, anyhow. " Upon which he drew the trigger of the pistol, which, luckily for the individual against whom it was aimed, flashed in the pan. She staggered to the fireplace and thrust it into the heart of the dying flames.
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