ToC Scarcely an hour after the horrible occurrence just related, as Jonathan Wild was seated in the audience-chamber of his residence at the Old Bailey, occupied, like Peachum, (for whose portrait he sat,) with his account-books and registers, he was interrupted by the sudden entrance of Quilt Arnold, who announced Jack Sheppard and Blueskin. It's public opinion. But, as soon as he perceived who it was, he roused himself, and glared fiercely at the intruder from under his bent brows. "Is this Jack Sheppard? Oh, la! I'm undone! We shall all have our throats cut! Oh! oh!" And she rushed, screaming, into the passage where she fell down in a fit. Figg," said Jack. Do they, Bess?" "Certainly not," replied the young lady appealed to, "especially about their sons. Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees.
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