Some years ago, in 1715, just before the Rebellion, I was rash enough to league myself with the Jacobite party, and by Wild's machinations got clapped into Newgate, whence I was glad to escape with my head upon my shoulders. He understood. Snatching-up his pistols, he rushed to the door, but to his horror found it fastened. He’s just. He lunched in the Legal Club in Chancery Lane, and met Ogilvy. From this night I shall pursue a different course; from this night his ruin may be dated.
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