Then, mysteriously, he no longer smelled or tasted it. "Them's catchpoles, I s'pose, Sir, arter the gemman with a writ?" he observed. "Your son's father was a thief; and Jonathan Wild (unless I'm misinformed,) was his friend,—so it's not unnatural he should show some partiality towards Jack. Dashing through the open door, he crossed the Old Bailey, plunged into a narrow court on the opposite side of the way, and was out of sight in a minute, baffling all pursuit.
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