Raymond Plote would only be missed by his mother. But here,—even here, the demon was suffered to intrude, and Jack's thoughts were distracted by Jonathan Wild, who stood at a little distance from him, and kept his bloodthirsty eyes fixed on him during the whole of the service. Say I will come to him. . . "I'll tell you," answered Jonathan, sternly. I must tell somebody—and you would understand.
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