’ Chapter Three Captain Hilary Roding listened with only half an ear to the long-winded report being given by Sergeant Trodger, his idle gaze wandering over the congested traffic of Piccadilly and the many pedestrians weaving a hazardous path through it. "If you won't disclose your name, I will for you! You are Jonathan Wild!" "Further concealment is needless," answered the other, pulling off his wig and black patch, and resuming his natural tone of voice; "I am Jonathan Wild!" "Say you so!" rejoined Kneebone; "then be this your passport to eternity. Gerald grinned. They clapped wildly afterward. I want to leave Paris to-day. ” The two congregated instantly. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. Wood and Thames pass him, and followed at a foot's pace behind them. I meant to give him a drubbing.
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