" "Jonathan Wild!" repeated the carpenter, trembling. ’ All at once Mrs Sindlesham looked across at him, a sharp question in her eyes. Spurling was no longer allowed to visit him; he was again loaded with irons; fastened by an enormous horse-padlock to a staple in the floor; and only allowed to take repose in a chair. As she averted her gaze, a terrible idea crossed her. Perhaps you'll call that charity: I call it defeating the ends of justice.
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