Well-balanced, sane, wasn’t I? You never heard anyone call me a madman? I’m pretty near being one now, and it’s her fault. Everything seemed designed to unhinge the mind and make the cat wretched. There it was—to be borrowed. ‘Who’d believe me? And I’d have to tell my part in it all, too. Your aunt and I have discussed all this matter. A florid-looking young woman rose up and accosted him eagerly. She longed to allow him to kiss her again, to touch her again. I haven’t murdered any one, or broken the law in any way that I know of. . —Jonathan Wild: August 31st, 1724. CHAPTER THE THIRD THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS Part 1 Two days after came the day of the Crisis, the day of the Fadden Dance.
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