\"Josh Durkin?\" Lucy whispered loudly. Still silence everywhere. However this may be, such was the ill report of the place that few passed along the Old Bailey without bestowing a glance of fearful curiosity at its dingy walls, and wondering what was going on inside them; while fewer still, of those who paused at the door, read, without some internal trepidation, the formidable name—inscribed in large letters on its bright brass-plate—of JONATHAN WILD. “Where is my beautiful wife?” He bellowed from the downstairs. "This is not the way to obtain it," said Winifred, endeavouring to reach the door. Wild never was the associate of thieves. 1.
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