She felt a hysterical desire to strike him, to burst out crying, to blurt out the whole miserable truth. You'd better lose no time. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. " The crowd accordingly drew aside, and the individual, in whose behalf the movement had been made immediately stepped forward. " "As you please," returned Jack, leaping up; "but I feel devilishly inclined to finish him. His wife met him at the door, and into her hands he delivered his little charge.
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