Jack, who had been lingering near the group, now walked on. Slowly Prudence Sindlesham nodded her head, her eyes never leaving his face. "It was given me by a man who was drinking t'other night with Blueskin at the Lion! and who, though he slouched his hat over his eyes, and muffled his chin in a handkerchief, must have been Jonathan Wild. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. "Have you sent off the note?" inquired Jack. “Come sit with me, beautiful. I'll write out certain rules of conduct, and then you'll never be in doubt.
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