She knew that the stairs they had to negotiate to the vestry were extremely narrow, and she had made her plans. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. This person—this Jonathan Wild, whom I beheld for the first time, scarcely an hour ago, in Wych Street, is—I know not why—my enemy. Sheppard, a matron offered to conduct him to her cell.
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