” He paced the room for a minute or two restlessly. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper. Here was an instrument which might be of the greatest service to him in accomplishing his design. " Sir Rowland looked at her for a moment, as if he meditated some terrible reply. As we turned the corner of the street, I noticed that the electric light was burning in this room. He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. Come, come, be reasonable, and listen to me. Lucia confined herself to her quarters, wondering when they would flee to the country as so many other houses had done. My name is Wild— Jonathan Wild. The Enschede Bible—the one out of which she read—had been strangely mutilated. In the retrospect she was amazed to think how things had gone to pieces, for at the outset she had been quite prepared to go home again upon terms.
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