\"What did you do?\" Mike asked. A hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent into the water. '—'No fear o' that,' thought I. After the usual laconic greetings, he drew him on one side. The pair then descended Saffron-hill, threaded Field-lane, and, entering Holborn, passed over the little bridge which then crossed the muddy waters of Fleet-ditch, mounted Snow-hill, and soon drew in the bridle before Jonathan Wild's door. ‘I don’t want him having an apoplexy in this house.
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