They were Jonathan Wild and Quilt Arnold. The wound lay open for five seconds, and then closed neatly as if it had been stitched by invisible hands. I hear the splash in the water—I see the white object floating like a sea-bird on the tide—it will not sink!" "'Sblood!" exclaimed Jonathan, in a tone of ill-disguised contempt; "it won't do to indulge those fancies now. This morning he heard voices—McClintock's and the Wastrel's. I trust that no unpleasant rumours will be circulated before the election, at any rate.
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