Free, there is nothing left to her but the canal. . It was a port of call, since fortnightly a British mail-boat dropped her mudhook in the bay. A little exclamation of surprise escaped Ennison. "I beg your pardon," he cried; "but really—ha! ha!—you must excuse me!—that is so uncommonly diverting—ha! ha! Do let me hear it again?—ha! ha! ha!" "Upon my word," rejoined Wood, "you seem vastly entertained by my misfortunes. "Jack!" Her son averted his gaze. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be.
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