At last, after a long rumbling journey in a stuffy windowless van, she reached Canongate Prison—for Holloway had its quota already. . "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 detective rapidly sketched the appearance of the room in his notebook, and picked up the pistol from under the table. ” “You love—Anna?” she exclaimed.
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