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. “Smirched!. And his scarlet coat had nothing to do with it, as Hilary was fond of recounting, for he had been in civilian clothes when they met, as he was tonight. And the bedchamber, for which Melusine instantly headed, was almost bright. This man has an evil reputation. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. It simply doesn’t count. He had been formally adopted by the Becks at the age of twelve. I have told you. His face was white.
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