A young man with shiny frock coat and very high collar, advanced towards her languidly. ‘Merely making a useful contact. Charcoal, you may bring in the boy. Then they rode off at speed. She could learn nothing of her son, and only obtained one solitary piece of information, which added to, rather than alleviated her misery,—namely, that Jonathan Wild had paid a secret visit to the Cross Shovels.
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