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. ’ Lucy was silent for a space, once again wearing that inscrutable expression. Four prisoners, termed "The Partners," had charge of this hold. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. "But trifle with mo no longer. . A moment before, the surface of the stream was black as ink. "No—Sheppard?" rejoined Wild. You need fear no interruption from him, or any of his myrmidons. Trifle useful?" he added, slipping a few gold pieces into Jack's hand.
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