He trembled, not from any superstitious dread, but from an undefined sense of approaching danger. I believe—I believe that I must risk it. But, taking the chisel from Blueskin, Jack quickly forced back the bolt. I will arise myself. "Dog!" cried Wild, freeing himself by a powerful effort, and dealing Jack a violent blow with the heavy bludgeon, which knocked him backwards, "you are not yet a match for Jonathan Wild. He saw now that it was merely a boy. See paragraph 1.
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