‘I know her, ma’am, but I know next to nothing of her story. It's fortunate we've no more Jack Sheppards, or I should stand but a poor chance. What his head conceived his hand executed. Wild is incapable of such baseness. Now we meet again, and you will scarcely look at me. . She was in one of her old walking-dresses, her hair was done in an unfamiliar manner, she wore a wedding-ring, and she looked as if she had been crying. It was dry, as if she had powdered it. "Sir Rowland, I salute you as your nephew. Again silence. Accordingly, having armed himself with various weapons, including a stout oaken staff then ordinarily borne by the watch, and put a coil of rope and a gag in his pocket, to be ready in case of need, he set out, about ten o'clock, on the expedition. She could learn nothing of her son, and only obtained one solitary piece of information, which added to, rather than alleviated her misery,—namely, that Jonathan Wild had paid a secret visit to the Cross Shovels. "Heaven have mercy on his soul!" ejaculated Wood. It had certainly caused some havoc in the uninhabited mansion, chewing through Holland covers to get at the furniture beneath, and knocking down a fire guard and a couple of wooden stands.
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