ToC Jonathan Wild's first object, as soon as he had made good his retreat, was to ascertain what had become of his janizaries, and, if possible, to release them. The odds were astounding and yet he had it bad. The place, in which they stood, was a small entrance-chamber, cut off, like the segment of a circle, from the main apartment, (of which it is needless to say it originally constituted a portion,) by a stout wooden partition. He recognized the face instantly. He began to tell me something—and stopped. He had never wanted daughters. E. "Why came she here?" "She could not resist the hand of fate which drew her hither," replied Sir Cecil, mournfully. But in a moment she believed she understood.
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