Of this boy she had only caught a glimpse;—but that glimpse was sufficient to satisfy her it was her son,—and, if she could have questioned her own instinctive love, she could not question her antipathy, when she beheld, partly concealed by a pillar immediately in the rear of the woollen-draper, the dark figure and truculent features of Jonathan Wild. He glanced out of the window, looked back at the major and grasped the handle of the door. Looked all over that dratted convent of yours—or at least Trodger and the men did so—but no sign of them.
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