His name was Sebastianus. 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. Washed in light from the vestry window, she held her ground, all thought at bay, bar the steel determination long ago instilled in her by her unconventional tutor. Except for the dull eyes and the extreme pallor of his face, there was nothing else to indicate that he was deep in liquor. For the love of Heaven, Jack, don't move!—Don't alter a muscle, if you can help it.
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