The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. The constable, Sharples, is in my pay. "Look here," cried Jonathan, stooping down and taking hold of a ring in the floor, with which by a great effort he raised up a flag. Or else—Else it will be impossible that I can be his friend. "Is she married?" he asked, after a brief pause.
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