ToC Jonathan Wild's first object, as soon as he had made good his retreat, was to ascertain what had become of his janizaries, and, if possible, to release them. He felt her relaxation and let go of her wrists. It’s a sort of home-leaving instinct. And then the fetters, which were still upon his legs:—how was he to get rid of them? Tired and dispirited, he still wandered on. Jack's friends were allowed to visit him,; but as he had openly avowed his intention of attempting an escape, their proceedings were narrowly watched. "Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom.
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