He was placed in a coach, handcuffed, and heavily fettered, and guarded by a vast posse of officers to Temple Bar, where a fresh relay of constables escorted him to Westminster. “One is always playing the surgeon, one kills always the thing one loves best. The man is a stranger to me. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. Terrific shouts were raised by the rabble, who threatened to tear Wild in pieces if he showed himself. When Jack came to speak of Jonathan Wild, his countenance fell. Missy looked like a troll with lipstick on. Men had tried that before, but never until now had they been quick enough.
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