"My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. Nothing disheartened by this survey, Jack set to work upon the lock, which he attacked with all his implements;—now attempting to pick it with the nail;— now to wrench it off with the bar: but all without effect. " "Why, that must be about the time of the Great Storm," rejoined Jackson. ‘That is better, no?’ ‘Dieu. He turned just in time to see Lucilla exchange an amused look with Hilary.
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