"Not a syllable," replied Wild. Wood, who were, furthermore, engaged in a little conjugal tête-à-tête of their own. That’s all. It was open. The night his execution was therefore passed in a most anxious state of mind; nor was his uneasiness allayed by the appearance of Jonathan Wild, who, after he had been driven from the roof of the jail, repaired to the Middle Stone Ward in a fit of ungovernable passion, to vent his rage upon the prisoner, whom he looked upon as the cause of the present calamity.
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