"My chickens are hatched, or, at least, nearly so," replied Shotbolt, with increased merriment. Wood turned over to obtain a more comfortable position. But not once in these ten years had they borne blossom or fruit. Next instant, Gerald felt his wrist seized in an iron grip. "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. Fas du tout. No doubt that was due to his helplessness.
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