Already she missed all of her fine things, her linens and leather bound books. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. My name is Wild— Jonathan Wild. It made me wake up, and there I lay thinking of you, spending your nights up here all alone, and no one to look after you. I am your first, of course you feel strongly. It would seem, from the attention which he evidently bestowed upon the hidden and complex machinery of the grand system of villany at work around him, that his chief object in taking up his quarters in the Mint, must have been to obtain some private information respecting the habits and practices of its inhabitants, to be turned to account hereafter. Her confession was still unmade. It was Jack, wasn’t it?’ ‘Aye, s-sir.
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