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. There was nothing to be got out of the man. She had come to despise those who were fertile out of pure jealousy, but could not admit it to herself. Which is why I wasn’t able to see him until today. The ruffled chemise-front under the wide lapels of her waistcoat and jacket no longer quivered, and her pose, with the full cloth petticoat spreading about her, was relaxed. At this moment, the bell began to toll in a peculiar manner, announcing the approach of the corpse.
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