Part 3 At last the evening was over, and Capes and his wife had gone down to see Mr. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. The knots and broken pale that made the garden-fence scalable, and gave access to the fields behind, were still to be traced. Even if you pretend sometimes to be without sense. At the period of this history, the main streets of the metropolis were but imperfectly lighted, while the less-frequented avenues were left in total obscurity; but, even at the present time, the maze of courts and alleys into which Wild now plunged, would have perplexed any one, not familiar with their intricacies, to thread them on a dark night.
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