Jonathan Wild brought him off." "Do you happen to know Jonathan Wild, master ?" inquired Jack, altering his tone, and assuming a more respectful demeanour.
"I've seen him some years ago, I believe," answered Wood; "and, though he must be much changed by this time, I dare say I should know him again." "A short man, isn't he, about your height, Sir,--with a yellow beard, and a face as sly as a fox's ?" "Hem!" replied Wood, coughing slightly to conceal a smile; "the description's not amiss.

But why do you ask ?" "Because--" stammered the boy.
"Speak out--don't be alarmed," said Wood, in a kind and encouraging tone.

"If you've done wrong, confess it, and I'll forgive you!" "I don't deserve to be forgiven!" returned Jack, bursting into tears; "for I'm afraid I've done very wrong.

Do you know this, Sir ?" he added, taking a key from his pocket.
"Where did you find it!" asked Wood.
"It was given me by a man who was drinking t'other night with Blueskin at the Lion! and who, though he slouched his hat over his eyes, and muffled his chin in a handkerchief, must have been Jonathan Wild." "Where did _he_ get it ?" inquired Wood, in surprise.
"That I can't say.

But he promised to give me a couple of guineas if I'd ascertain whether it fitted your locks." "Zounds!" exclaimed Wood; "it's my old master-key.