ToC Scarcely an hour after the horrible occurrence just related, as Jonathan Wild was seated in the audience-chamber of his residence at the Old Bailey, occupied, like Peachum, (for whose portrait he sat,) with his account-books and registers, he was interrupted by the sudden entrance of Quilt Arnold, who announced Jack Sheppard and Blueskin. The winter of 1348 seemed to last an eternity, but the Pestilence struck in one day. ‘Something wrong, madame?’ Her fan came up swiftly, hiding the lower part of her face. She thought then that she had shaken off the man of the bulging blue eyes forever, but that night she found he followed her into her dreams. “They seem smaller, you know, even physically smaller,” she said. The moment I entered the room, and found you a prisoner in the hands of Jonathan Wild, I guessed how matters stood, and acted accordingly.
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