James Figg was the most perfect master of self-defence of his day. She loved him. His fatigue was tacitly understood within the family; it was a phenomenon which everyone acknowledged as related to the trades. A momentary petrifaction, and terror had lent wings to her feet. The night his execution was therefore passed in a most anxious state of mind; nor was his uneasiness allayed by the appearance of Jonathan Wild, who, after he had been driven from the roof of the jail, repaired to the Middle Stone Ward in a fit of ungovernable passion, to vent his rage upon the prisoner, whom he looked upon as the cause of the present calamity.
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