“Sydney is quite right, Miss Pellissier,” he said. Of this boy she had only caught a glimpse;—but that glimpse was sufficient to satisfy her it was her son,—and, if she could have questioned her own instinctive love, she could not question her antipathy, when she beheld, partly concealed by a pillar immediately in the rear of the woollen-draper, the dark figure and truculent features of Jonathan Wild. Lucy clapped a hand over Michelle’s mouth and struck her neck with a swift blow to the carotid artery. "Now—begin.
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