Jack Sheppard is a match for Jonathan Wild, any day. "Let me go," cried Winifred. She tried surreptitiously to reach her own dagger, in its cunning hiding place in her petticoat. He looked like the shadow of himself—thin, feeble, hollow-eyed—his beard unshorn—nothing could be more miserable. ’ Gerald was staring at her, an arrested expression on his face. Wood was not particularly fortunate in his own matrimonial connections. "You are, Sir," thundered Jonathan; "and, unless you find him, you shan't hold your place a week.
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