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. The shot had taken effect upon the waterman who rowed the chase. She moaned as his hands explored her body, fingers crushing against her panties under her skirt. It was all highly intriguing. Upon the steps leading to the gates of the church stood two persons whom Jack instantly recognised. The tears were streaming down her face, her voice was thick with sobs.
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