“You will have some tea?” she asked. “Why did you do it?” her aunt urged. Then she saw the bodies piled in the corner. The only circumstance which served to awaken a darker feeling in his breast was, that his implacable foe Jonathan Wild had survived the wound inflicted by Blueskin, and was slowly recovering. It was on the eve of that memorable rebellion which broke forth, two months later, in Scotland. Good-bye aunt. Sheppard, which she gratefully declined.
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