“A white wall is a fool's paper, Jack,—remember that,” rejoined Wood. “Pretty company for an apprentice to keep!—pretty houses for an apprentice to frequent! Why, the rascal you mention is a notorious house-breaker. He was tried at the last Old Bailey sessions; and only escaped the gallows by impeaching his accomplices. Jonathan Wild brought him off.”
“Do you happen to know Jonathan Wild, master?” inquired Jack, altering his tone, and assuming a more respectful demeanour.
“I've seen him some years ago, I believe,” answered Wood; “and, though he must be much changed by this time, I dare say I should know him again.”
“A short man, isn't he, about your height, Sir,—with a yellow beard, and a face as sly as a fox's?”
“Hem!” replied Wood, coughing slightly to conceal a smile; “the description's not amiss. But why do you ask?”
“Because—” stammered the boy.
“Speak out—don't be alarmed,” said Wood, in a kind and encouraging tone. “If you've done wrong, confess it, and I'll forgive you!”
“I don't deserve to be forgiven!” returned Jack, bursting into tears; “for I'm afraid I've done very wrong. Do you know this, Sir?” he added, taking a key from his pocket.
“Where did you find it!” asked Wood.
“It was given me by a man who was drinking t'other night with Blueskin at the Lion! and who, though he slouched his hat over his eyes, and muffled his chin in a handkerchief, must have been Jonathan Wild.”