‘We’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. I have always been lonely. ‘Pen and paper, do you have them?’ ‘Danged if I have,’ came the truculent response. Were I not Jonathan Wild, I'd be Jack Sheppard. He measured out the portion of another peg, the bottle wavering in his hand.
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