CHAPTER XI. There was a lock, apparently more than a foot wide, strongly plated, and girded to the door with thick iron hoops. She went from period to period exactly as she would have read prose; so that sense and music were equally balanced. 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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