” “Far away?” “I have no idea,” Anna answered. However this may be, such was the ill report of the place that few passed along the Old Bailey without bestowing a glance of fearful curiosity at its dingy walls, and wondering what was going on inside them; while fewer still, of those who paused at the door, read, without some internal trepidation, the formidable name—inscribed in large letters on its bright brass-plate—of JONATHAN WILD. He had almost forced himself upon her one night after a particularly bloody raid of a thatched cottage. Men had tried to kiss her— unshaven derelicts, some of them terrible—but she had always managed to escape.
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