Old saltwater was right. . Of this boy she had only caught a glimpse;—but that glimpse was sufficient to satisfy her it was her son,—and, if she could have questioned her own instinctive love, she could not question her antipathy, when she beheld, partly concealed by a pillar immediately in the rear of the woollen-draper, the dark figure and truculent features of Jonathan Wild. Her heart full of dread, she dragged on it. ‘Sergeant Trodger is who I am. Been in the wars with both the major and Capting Roding, I have,’ Trodger informed her loftily. Free, there is nothing left to her but the canal.
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