He sat down on the sill of the open window, folded his arms, and stared straight before him for a long time over the wilderness of tiles and chimney-pots into a sky that was blue and empty. For a moment none of them stirred; then slowly Enschede turned away. "What say you to carrying her off, Captain?" suggested Blueskin. . . " "Perhaps, I wasn't," returned Thames, gloomily, as the remembrance of Jonathan Wild's foul insinuation crossed him. .
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