"Do you take me for a thiefcatcher, like Jonathan Wild, that you dare to affront me by such a proposal?" "No offence, Sir," rejoined the jailer, humbly. Once he had managed to stake his claim, she would have all to do to prove her identity and win it back. They were all stout ill-favoured men, attired in the regular jail-livery of scratch wig and snuff-coloured suit; and had all a strong family likeness to each other. "Dead!" echoed the boy. Cathy appeared in her bathrobe. He was a London man of business, spending a small legacy in Paris. The Supper at Mr.
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