This person—this Jonathan Wild, whom I beheld for the first time, scarcely an hour ago, in Wych Street, is—I know not why—my enemy. . I thought my sister and her murdered husband dragged me hither, to this very room, and commanded you to slay me. ‘But I have been perfectly honest about that. She was in ill trim for walking, but somehow or other she made her way as far as the Champs Elysées, and sank down upon an empty seat. The troops had kept a large space clear around the gallows. "Recollect you are in my power. Wood grasped his companion's arm to attract his attention to this unexpected means of escape. Jonathan Wild?" asked the attendant, in great trepidation.
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