‘Silence,’ he warned again, with a prod of the dagger at her heart. The crowner's 'quest sat on her yesterday—and if she hadn't been proved out of her mind, she would have been buried at four lane-ends. Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis. Without waiting to have the information repeated, Wood rushed forth, determined as soon as he could procure assistance, to proceed to Jonathan Wild's house in the Old Bailey; while Mrs. Wood was not particularly fortunate in his own matrimonial connections. “Is this hansom for me?” she said. Her unnatural calm was giving way.
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