How Jonathan Wild's House was burnt down 458 XXXI. But that's an infirmity shared by a great many sounder heads than mine. Wood's dwelling,—a plain, substantial, commodious farm-house. For the first time, perhaps, in his life, he repented of his brutality. "Flight is still left me," replied Trenchard. It had not tasted good since 1350. As no apprehension was entertained of an escape by this outlet,—nothing of the kind having been attempted by the boldest felon ever incarcerated in Newgate,—both doors were generally left open during the daytime. You have betrayed me.
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