‘Give me my pistol!’ Gerald shook his head, slipping the pistol into his pocket. Before he could fire a second shot, Jack had to defend himself from the thieftaker, who, with his drawn hanger, furiously assaulted him. She dare not risk it. Show him no quarter, Poll. He led her unerringly, pushing her down the narrow stairway that had been the servants’ access to the upper floors, and thence through a small door that led into the chapel. Rhea became alarmed that she was about to leave. She was in a very uncritical state that afternoon. "Dog!" cried Wild, freeing himself by a powerful effort, and dealing Jack a violent blow with the heavy bludgeon, which knocked him backwards, "you are not yet a match for Jonathan Wild. Her voice recalled him. . .
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