At a little after five, on that day, four horses dashed round the corner of the Old Bailey, and drew up before the door of the Lodge. Of this boy she had only caught a glimpse;—but that glimpse was sufficient to satisfy her it was her son,—and, if she could have questioned her own instinctive love, she could not question her antipathy, when she beheld, partly concealed by a pillar immediately in the rear of the woollen-draper, the dark figure and truculent features of Jonathan Wild. “You are coming in, aren’t you, Sydney?” “If I may,” he answered. As soon as he was certain he should be disturbed no more, Jack set to work, and with the aid of the file in less than an hour had freed himself from his fetters. Fas du tout.
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