‘Of course the fellow has doubtless stayed put to wait for you,’ retorted Hilary. This formidable person, who was no other than the renowned Figg, the "Atlas of the sword," as he is termed by Captain Godfrey, had removed his hat and "skull covering," and was wiping the heat from his bepatched and closeshaven pate. 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. Perhaps I'd better open it now. And in this fact lay his danger.
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