" "What do you mean, Sir?" asked Trenchard. He glanced downwards at the impetuous torrent, which he could perceive shooting past him with lightning swiftness in the gloom. In privacy he read and reread it a dozen times, and eventually destroyed it by fire. Were I not Jonathan Wild, I'd be Jack Sheppard. It was a pity people had to eat food. On receiving the warning note from the ostler, Jack Sheppard and his companion left Willesden, and taking—as a blind—the direction of Harrow, returned at nightfall by a by-lane to Neasdon, and put up at a little public-house called the Spotted Dog. "Flight is still left me," replied Trenchard.
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