How Jonathan Wild's House was burnt down. " "Miscreants!" cried Sheppard, almost driven frantic by the violence of his emotions; "you're all in league with him. After a series of mental gymnastics—occupying the space of a few seconds—it came to him with a shock that here was a new specimen of the species. It was the crowned queen of mountains in her robes of shining white. She had warned him. ‘I told her you couldn’t have been flirting, but she wouldn’t believe me. 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.
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