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ToC After a few minutes' rapid walking, during which neither party uttered a word, Jonathan Wild and his companion had passed Saint Paul's, dived down a thoroughfare on the right, and reached Thames Street. Groping their way through one or two dark and mouldy-smelling vaults, the party ascended a flight of steps, which brought them to the hall. Every window, from the groundfloor to the garret had its occupant, and the roofs were covered with spectators. As no apprehension was entertained of an escape by this outlet,—nothing of the kind having been attempted by the boldest felon ever incarcerated in Newgate,—both doors were generally left open during the daytime. ‘Now let’s have it. Henry Clay, thirteen cents in Hong-Kong and two-bits in that dear old New York. "What for?" rejoined Quilt, evasively. Her father for fifteen years, and you now for the rest of her life! Tell her you're a thief. Your disobedience be upon your own head.
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