” “I cannot do it!” he cried hoarsely. "It's an odd-shaped one," rejoined Kneebone, examining it attentively. In the subdued light she could not tell whether he was asleep or awake. Lucy felt the hairs on her neck rise. 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. ‘Suzanne, if I may say, had also not the choice.
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