4. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. "Have nine years so changed me, that there is no trace left of your adopted son?" "God bless me!" ejaculated the carpenter, rubbing his eyes, "can—can it be?" "Surely," screamed Mrs. Jonathan Wild and his bloodhounds, with a hundred others, incited by the reward, will be upon my track. Your name?" "Owen Wood," replied the carpenter; "I've no reason to be ashamed of it.
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