Or perhaps my father once. " It was only a shade better than the Stone Hold. “No doubt about that, I fancy,” Meddoes answered lightly. The spy—if there was one hiding out in the late Jarvis Remenham’s empty house—would be taken unawares. He, next, tried to clamber up the flying buttresses and soffits of the pier, in the hope of reaching some of the windows and other apertures with which, as a man-of-war is studded with port-holes, the sides of the bridge were pierced. Indeed, it seemed inevitable that she must clear it up with his assistance, or not at all. Steps to aid the descent, which was too steep to be safe without them, led to, a door on the opposite side. She could learn nothing of her son, and only obtained one solitary piece of information, which added to, rather than alleviated her misery,—namely, that Jonathan Wild had paid a secret visit to the Cross Shovels.
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