97 “For what, kiddo?” Larry turned his head slightly to one side. Not far from the entrance, on the left, was a sort of screen, or partition-wall, reaching from the floor to the ceiling, formed of thick oaken planks riveted together by iron bolts, and studded with broad-headed nails. “This is Mr. It won't do to knock at the door, and Jonathan Wild's house is not quite so easy of entrance as Mr. What is it?" "Guess," rejoined Blueskin, attempting to throw a gallant expression into his forbidding countenance. Sheppard stopped him.
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