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"I can't," answered Blueskin. No hair to fall awry, no powder to displace, no ruffles to crush; men are lucky. "While I live you are safe," rejoined Trenchard; "after my death I can answer for nothing. And immediately afterwards the curtain was drawn aside, and disclosed the Satanic countenance of Jonathan Wild, who had crept into the house unperceived, "I'll tell you, why he can't go back to his master," cried the thief-taker, with a malignant grin.
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