" "How!" ejaculated Trenchard, starting back and drawing his sword. Of this boy she had only caught a glimpse;—but that glimpse was sufficient to satisfy her it was her son,—and, if she could have questioned her own instinctive love, she could not question her antipathy, when she beheld, partly concealed by a pillar immediately in the rear of the woollen-draper, the dark figure and truculent features of Jonathan Wild. "Hear me," he cried, restraining himself with difficulty. He has been bottling it up all the way from West Kensington. I wonder why on earth the curtains are drawn. And stony broke. "I will at once convince you of the truth of my assertions, and ascertain whether the enemy really is at hand. .
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