However this may be, such was the ill report of the place that few passed along the Old Bailey without bestowing a glance of fearful curiosity at its dingy walls, and wondering what was going on inside them; while fewer still, of those who paused at the door, read, without some internal trepidation, the formidable name—inscribed in large letters on its bright brass-plate—of JONATHAN WILD. His eyes glowed beneath the glasses and his blue buttondown shirt was reflected in the lenses. The two girls put on shoes and started walking towards the north side of town. The doorbell tinkled and Michelle grabbed her purse and rushed down the creaky wooden stairs.
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