No sooner had Trenchard crossed the threshold than a fierce barking was heard at the farther extremity of the passage, and, the next moment, a couple of mastiffs of the largest size rushed furiously towards him. " "Nor Jonathan Wild, I hope," interposed Sheppard. A third that joined this to the chambers at the front of the house. A Hand that strove to reach his shoulder, relentless, soulless but lawful. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. You have nothing more to fear from Wild. The man muttered something inaudible, and gathered up the reins. 3. .
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