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. Never before had he seen a man like Enschede nor heard a voice like Ruth's. Rain pounded the tin roof, and waterfalls obscured the pavilion into its own private 91 chamber. Ann Veronica stared at his foolish, propitiatory smile, his hungry gaze, through one moment of amazement, then stepped aside and went on her way with a quickened step. She saw me, and, Lady Ferringhall, I shall never forget her look as long as I live.
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