ToC About an hour after the occurrences at Newgate, the door of the small backparlour already described at Dollis Hill was opened by Winifred, who, gliding noiselessly across the room, approached a couch, on which was extended a sleeping female, and, gazing anxiously at her pale careworn countenance, murmured,—"Heaven be praised! she still slumbers—slumbers peacefully. My name is Wild— Jonathan Wild. It won't do to knock at the door, and Jonathan Wild's house is not quite so easy of entrance as Mr. She shuddered, adding confidentially, ‘You wouldn’t get me in there now, mind.
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