"Put up your blade, Sir Rowland," rejoined Jonathan, resuming his former calm demeanour, "King James the Third will need it. She would write to Gerald. Sepulchre's. Taber's room at once," Ruth ordered. The night his execution was therefore passed in a most anxious state of mind; nor was his uneasiness allayed by the appearance of Jonathan Wild, who, after he had been driven from the roof of the jail, repaired to the Middle Stone Ward in a fit of ungovernable passion, to vent his rage upon the prisoner, whom he looked upon as the cause of the present calamity. ‘I was not born to this. So, here he was, on the last lap of middle age, in China, having missed all the thrills in life except one—the war against Death.
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