CHAPTER IX. “I will wait for you on the pavement, if you like,” he said, “but I am going to the ‘Unusual’ with you. Her interest grew as she read, a certain distaste disappeared. None saw, though all felt, his presence, and heard the thunder of his voice. ‘What the devil for? I’ll have one of the men ride the creature up tomorrow. Indeed, I've heard him say that, but for his wife, he would shelter her under his own roof. 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. .
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