Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. "One of you fly to the market," returned Jonathan; "another to the river; a third to the New Mint. But I'll tell you about him some other time. “I wonder,” she murmured to herself, “if this is the beginning. “Here is my card. Wudd I'm here, and have brought him a message from his unlawful son, and don't be detainin' me, my darlin', for there's not a minute to lose if the poor lad's to be recused from the clutches of that thief and thief-taker o' the wurld, Jonathan Wild.
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