Sorrow lay in the back of his mind as he withdrew, but he put it aside. “Of course he may merely have been telling her who we were, but I think it improbable. The pair then descended Saffron-hill, threaded Field-lane, and, entering Holborn, passed over the little bridge which then crossed the muddy waters of Fleet-ditch, mounted Snow-hill, and soon drew in the bridle before Jonathan Wild's door. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. It's a pity you wouldn't give me the prescription instead of the medicine, so I could have it filled nearer home.
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