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. She was suddenly grave. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended. The girl regarded him with the face of a Sphinx. . "That's tremendous!" he cried. "Well, what sort of journey have you had, Quilt?" asked the man as he hastened to assist Sir Rowland to dismount.
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