If ever she felt fatigue in these long tramps which had already taken her half over London, she never admitted it. Without inquiring into the correctness of the latter part of the story, it may be sufficient to state, that Black Mary was a person in whom Jack Sheppard thought he could confide, and, as Edgeworth Bess was incapable of much further exertion, he determined to leave her in the old woman's care till the following night, while he shifted for himself and fulfilled his design—for, however rash or hazardous a project might be, if once conceived, Jack always executed it,—of visiting Jonathan Wild at his house in the Old Bailey. ‘Softly, you say?’ she uttered, raging. "True," replied Wild. She found it extremely difficult to infuse an air of quiet correctitude into her return through the window, and when she was safely inside she waved clinched fists and executed a noiseless dance of rage. “I wonder what happened. "Help!—murder!—thieves!" screamed Mrs. ‘But this is altogether a chance of the luckiest. She hesitated in answering the door, her violin still crooked underneath her chin.
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