He continued alternately to be tossed in the air, or rolled in the kennel until he was borne out of sight. “He dissembles,” he said. There is a button loose on that coat under your pillow. It is what I have wanted, what I have meant all along. Without inquiring into the correctness of the latter part of the story, it may be sufficient to state, that Black Mary was a person in whom Jack Sheppard thought he could confide, and, as Edgeworth Bess was incapable of much further exertion, he determined to leave her in the old woman's care till the following night, while he shifted for himself and fulfilled his design—for, however rash or hazardous a project might be, if once conceived, Jack always executed it,—of visiting Jonathan Wild at his house in the Old Bailey. “Are we interrupting anything?” “No!” Martin jumped slightly.
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