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. At length, at the end of a passage, next to the cell where Mrs. E. Beyond the hatch, an angle, formed by a projection in the wall of some three or four feet, served to hide a door conducting to the interior of the prison. Her hair had become so matted that Sebastian had sheared it off, which made her the very mirage of a nubile young boy. Mary Remenham had passed on her every feature to the daughter whose advent had taken her from this world. Well might she do so, Gerald thought in irritation. ‘Please to sit, monsieur.
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