He was all alone, too. I overheard Jonathan Wild's instructions to Quilt Arnold, and though he spoke in slang, and in an under tone, my quick ears, and acquaintance with the thieves' lingo, enabled me to make out every word he uttered. When the paroxysm passed, he was forced to lean against the window-jamb for support. I suppose an intelligent person OUGHT to be interested in political affairs. He looked at his friend. There was, in fact, only one clear thought in his fevered brain: he had reached the hotel without falling down. ‘Laisse-moi!’ Impatience swamped him. And taking the keys, he departed on the errand.
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