Section 3. This person—this Jonathan Wild, whom I beheld for the first time, scarcely an hour ago, in Wych Street, is—I know not why—my enemy. It was not without considerable demur and delay on the part of Sharples that the carpenter and his companion could gain admittance to the round-house. ‘Dunderhead. I must go to work again. ’ Captain Roding grinned. His frame was wasted, and slightly bent; his eyes were hollow, his complexion haggard, and his beard, which had remained unshorn during his hasty journey, was perfectly white. Come down with me to the Lodge directly.
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