"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. Squire and master. He was not, it seemed, the proper stipendiary at all, and there had been some demur to his jurisdiction that had ruffled him. This employment seemed to afford him the highest satisfaction; for a diabolical grin—it cannot be called a smile—played upon his face all the time he was engaged in it. The four men fell upon him, holding his arms and legs, while Caliban forced back his head. You can think all round me.
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