On the next morning—Sunday—the day on which he expected his mother's funeral to take place, he set out along the Harrow Road. From this sorrowful state he was aroused by a loud derisive whistle, followed by a still louder laugh; and, looking up, he beheld the impudent countenance of Jack Sheppard immediately before him. These were the Master's body-guard. Austin, may repeat it if he pleases to his master, Jonathan Wild,—I have not. They incubate and grow at phenomenal speed, their hunger is tenthousand times what our greatest hunger could ever be.
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