” Michelle shrugged. You have to come over to my house. Another car followed, a rusty Cadillac sedan full of kids. Made me fetch up Trodger and a couple more men, and together we searched his luggage and got hold of every single paper the man possessed. However this may be, such was the ill report of the place that few passed along the Old Bailey without bestowing a glance of fearful curiosity at its dingy walls, and wondering what was going on inside them; while fewer still, of those who paused at the door, read, without some internal trepidation, the formidable name—inscribed in large letters on its bright brass-plate—of JONATHAN WILD. His countenance was almost as white and rigid as that of the corpse by his side. In the general survey of the prison, taken in the preceding chapter, but little was said of the Lodge.
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