PERKINS LIBRARY Duke University Kare Dooks Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2011 with funding from Duke University Libraries http://www.archive.org/details/jacksheppardromaOOains ftortt fauK4ftf&. JACK SHEPPARD A ROMANCE BY W. HARRISON AINSWORTH AUTHOR OF "THE TOWER OF LONDON " WITH ILLUSTRATIONS ON STEEL BY GEORGE CR CIA'S HA NK "Upon my word, friend," said I, "you have almost made me long to try what a robber I should make." "There's great art in it, if you did," quoth he. " Ah ! but," said I, " there's a great deal in being hanged." Life and Actions of Guzman D'Alfaraciie. LONDON GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & SONS, Limited BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL TO GILBERT WINTER, Esq. OF MANCHESTER THIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED BY HIS SINCERE FRIEND THE AUTHOR ft BR CONTENTS. ©jjodj t\)c jFirst, 1703. JONATHAN WILD. CHAPTER I. The Widow and her Child ■, 1 CHAPTER II. The Old Mint 10 CHAPTER III. The Master of the Mint 21 CHAPTER IV. The Roof and the Window 25 CHAPTER V. The Denunciation 31 CHAPTER VI. The Storm 87 CHAPTER VII. Old London Bridge 46 <£j>od) tfic Sccontr, 1715. THAMES DARK ELL. CHAPTER I. The Idle Apprentice 52 CHAPTER IL Thames Darrell > ••• 61 CHAPTER III. The Jacoimte • •»«•* 67 VI CONTEXTS. CHAPTER IV. Mr. Kneebone and his Frtnds , ,.. 69 CHAPTER V. Hawk and Buzzard 72 CHAPTER VL The First Step towards the Ladder 84 CHAPTER VII. Brother and Sister 93 CHAPTER VIII. MlCHING Malecho ...., 96 CHAPTER IX. CONSEQUENCES OF THE THEFT 105 CHAPTER X. Mother and Son ,, Ill CHAPTER XI. The Mohocks 115 CHAPTER XH. Saint Giles's Roundhouse 121 CHAPTER XIII. The Magdalene 128 CHAPTER XIV The Flash Ken 138 CHAPTER XV. The Robbery in Willesden Church 143 CHAPTER XVL Jonathan Wild's House in the Old Bailey ......145 CHAPTER XVH. The Night Cellar » 152> CHAPTER XVHI. How Jack Sheppard broke out of the Cage at Willesden ....158 CHAPTER XDC Good and Eyil -. ••• 16? CONTENTS. VU Crporfj tfjC £f)tVB, 1724. THE PRISON-BREAKER CHAPTER I. The "Return..... ..« 165 CHAPTER II. The Burglary at Dollis Hill , 178 CHAPTER III. Jack Sheppahd's Quarrel with Jonathan Wild 182 CHAPTER IV. Jack Sheppard's Escape from the New Prison 185 CHAPTER V. The Disgdtse 187 CHAPTER VL Winifred receives two Proposals 200 CHAPTER VII. Jack Shepfard warns Thames Darkell 204 CHAPTER VIII. Old Bedlam 210 CHAPTER IX. Old Newgate 217 CHAPTER X. How Jack Sheppard got out of me Condemned Hold 223 CHAPTER XI. Dollis Hill revisited 234 CHAPTER XII. TnE Well Hole 243 CHAPTER XTTT. The Supper at Mr. Kneebone's 250 CHAPTER XIV. How Jack Sheppard was again Captured 266 CHAPTER XV. Hon Blueskin underwent hie Peine Forte et Dure ., 273 Till CONTEXTS. CHAPTER XVL How Jack. Sheppard's Portrait was Painted 279 CHAPTER XVH. The Iron Bab 288 CHAPTER XV1IL The Red Room 290 CHAPTER XIX. The Chapel 291 CHAPTER XX The Leads 293 CHAPTER XXI. What befell Jack Sheppabd in the Turner's House 296 CHAPTER XXII. Fast and Loose 301 CHAPTER XXHL The Last Meeting between Jack Sheppard and his Mother 304 CHAPTER XXTV. TnE Pursuit 308 CHAPTER XXV. How Jack Sheppard got Rid of his Irons , 311 CHAPTER XXVL How Jack Sheppard attended his Mother's Funeral 315 CHAPTER XXVIL How Jack Sheppabd was brought back to Newgate ,.,,. 320 CHAPTER XXVHL What happened at Dollis Hill 325 CHAPTER XXIX. How Jack Sheppard was taken to Westminster Hall , 330 CHAPTER XXX. How Jonathan Wild's House was Burnt down 332 CHAPTER XXXL The Procession to Tyburn 335 CHAPTER XXXIL The Closing Scene 342 1703. JONATHAN WILD CHAPTER L— THE WIDOW AND HER CHILD. Ox the night of Friday, the 26th of November, 1703, and at the hour of eleven, the door of a miserable habitation, situated in an obscure quarter of the Borough of Southwark, known as tho Old Mint, was opened; and a man, with a lantern in his hand, appeared at the threshold. This person, whose age mi'dit he about forty, was attired in a brown double-breasted frieze coat, with very wide skirts, and a very narrow collar ; a light d runlet waistcoat, with pockets reaching to the knees; black plush breeches: grey worsted hose; and shoes with round toes, wooden heels, and high quarters, fastened by small silver buckles. Ho wore a three-cornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wieaee on this side the grave." "Nonsense!" cried Wood; "while there's life there's hope. Never be down-hearted. Besides," added he, opening the shawl in which the infant was wrapped, and throwing the light of the candle full upon its sickly, but placid features, " it's sinful to repine while you've a child like this to comfort yon. Lord help him ! he's the very image of his father. Like carpenter, like chips." " That likeness is the chief cause of my misery," replied the widow, shuddering. " Were it not for that, he would indeed be a blessing and a comfort to me. He never cries nor frets as chil- dren generally do, but lies at my bosom, or on my knee, as quiet and as gentle as you see him now. But, when I look upon his innocent face, and see how like he is to his father — when I think of that father's shameful ending, and recollect how free from guilt he once was — at such times, Mr. Wood, despair mil come over me ; and, dear as this babe is to me, far dearer than my own wretched life, which 1 would lay down for him any minute, I have prayed to Heaven to remove him, rather than he should grow up to be a man, and be exposed to his father's temptations — rather than he should live as wickedly and die as disgracefully as his father. And when I have seen him pining away before my eyes, getting thinner and thinner every day, I have sometimes thought «B»y prayers were heard." 11 Marriage and hanging go by destiny," observed Wood, after a pause ; " but I trust your child is reserved for a better fate than either, Mrs. Sheppard." The latter part of this speech was delivered with so much sig- nificance of manner, that a bystander might have inferred that Mr. "Wood was not particularly fortunate in his own matrimonial connections. " Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone ; " but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed." " Save us!" exclaimed Wood. "And who is this Van Gal — Gal — what's his outlandish name?" "Van Galgebrok," replied the widow, "lie's the famous Dutch conjurer who foretold King William's accident and death, last February but one, a month before either event happened, and gave out that another prince over the water would soon enjoy his own again; for which he was committed to Newgate, and whipped at the cart's tail. He went by another name then, — Rykhart Scherprechter I think he called himself. His fel- low-prisoners nicknamed him the gallows-provider, from a habit he had of picking out all those who were destined to the gibbet. He was never known to err, and was as much dreaded as the jail-fever in consequence. lie singled out my poor husband TnE -WIDOW AND HER CIIIED. 5 from a crowd of other felons ; and you know how right he was in that case, sir." "Ay, marry/' replied Wood, with a look that seemed to say, that he did not think it required any surprising skill in the art of divination to predict the doom of the individual in question; but, whatever opinion he might entertain, he contented himself with inquiring into the grounds of the conjurer's evil augury respecting the infant. " AVhat did the old fellow judge from, eh, Joan '? " asked he. "From a black mole under the child's right ear, shaped like a coffin, which is a bad sign ; and a deep line just above the middle of the left thumb, meeting round about in the form of a noose, which is worse," replied Mrs. Sheppard. " To be sure, it's not surprising the poor little thing should be so marked; for, when I lay in the women-felons' ward in Newgate, where he first saw the light, or at leas', such light as ever finds entrance into that gloomy place, I had nothing, whether sleeping or waking, but halters, and gibbets, and c/Hns, and suchlike horrible visions, for ever dancing round me! And then, you know, sir — but, perhaps, you don't know that little .lack was born a month before his time, on the very day his poor father suffered." " Lord bless us ! " ejaculated Wood, " how shocking ! No, I did not know that." " You may see the rnar a3 on the child yourself, if you choose, sir," urged the widow. " See the devil ! — cot I," cried Wood impatiently. " I didn't think you'd been so easily fooled, Joan."' " Fooled or not," returned Mrs. Sheppard mysteriously, " old Van told me one thing which has come true already." " What's that ? " asked Wood, with some curiosity. "He said, by way of comfort, I suppose, after the fright he gave me at firs*, that the child would find a friend within twenty-four hours, who would stand by him through life." " A friend is not so soon gained as lost," replied Wood ; " but how has the prediction been fulfilled, Joan, eh?" " I thought you would have guessed, sir," replied the widow, timidly. "I'm sure little Jack has but one friend beside myself in the world, and that's more than I would have ventured to say for him yesterday. However, I've not told you all ; for old Van did say something about the child saving his new-found friend's life at the time of meeting ; but how that's to happen, I'm sure I can't guess." " Nor any one else in his senses," rejoined Wood, with a laugh. " It's not very likely that a babby of nine months old will save my life, if I'm to be his friend, as you seem to say, Mrs. Sheppard. But I've not promised to stand by him yet ; nor will I, unless he turns out an h meat lad — mind that. Of all 6 JACK SHEPPARD. crafts — and it was the only craft his poor father, who, to do him justice, was oik? of the best workmen that ever handled a saw or drove a nail, could never understand — of all crafts, I sav, to be an honest man is the master-craft. As long as your son observes that precept I'll befriend him, but no longer." " I don't desire it, sir," replied Mrs. Sheppard, meekly. " There's an old proverb," continued Wood, rising and walk- ing towards the fire, " which says, — " Put another man's child in your bosom, and he'll creep out at your elbow.' But I don't value that, because I think it applies to one who marries a widow with incumbrances ; and that's not my case, you know." " Well, sir," gasped Mrs. Sheppard. "Well, my dear, I've a proposal to make in regard to this babby of yours, which may, or may not, be agreeable. All I can say is, it's well meant ; and I may add, I'd have made it five minutes ago, if you'd given me the opportunity.''' " Pray come to the point, sir," said Mrs. Sheppard, somewhat alarmed by this preamble. u I am coming to the point, Joan. The more haste, the worse speed — better the feet slip than the tongue. However, to cut a long matter short, my proposal's this : — I've taken a fancy to vour bantling, and, as I've no son of my own, if it meets with your concurrence and that of Mrs. Wood (for I never do any thing without consulting my better half), I'll take the boy, educate him, and bring him up to my own business of a carpenter." The poor widow hung her head, and pressed her child closer to her breast. " Well, Joan," said the benevolent mechanic, after he had looked at her steadfastly for a few moments, " what say you 1 — silence gives consent, eh 1 " Mrs. Sheppard made an effort to speak, but her voice was choked by emotion. ' Shall I take the babby home with me?" persisted Wood, in a tone between jest and earnest. " 1 cannot part with him," replied the widow, bursting into tears ; " indeed, indeed, I cannot ! " " So I've found out the way to move her," thought the carpenter ; " those tears will do her some good, at all events. Not part with him ! " added he, aloud. " Why, you wouldn't 6tand in the way of his good fortune, surely? I'll be a second father to him, 1 tell you. Eemeinber what the conjurer said." " I do remember it, sir," replied Mrs. Sheppard, " and am most grateful for your offer. But I dare not accept it." " Dare not ! " echoed the carpenter ; " I don't understand you, Joan." " 1 mean to sav, sir," answered Mrs. Sheppai'd in a troubled voice. " that if 1 lo.-t my child, I should lose ail I have left in the THE WIDOW AND HER CHILD. I world. I have neither father, mother, brother, sister, nor husband — I have only him." " If I ask you to part with him, my good woman, it's to better his condition, I suppose, ain't it?" rejoined Wood, angrily ; for, though he had no serious intention of carrying his proposal into effect, he was rather offended at having it declined. " It's not an offer," continued he, " that I'm likely to make, or you're likely to receive every day in the year." And muttering some remarks, which we do not care to repeat reflecting upon the consistency of the sex, he was preparing once more to depart, when Mrs. Sheppard stopped him. " Give me till to-morrow," implored she, " and if 1 can brin^ mvself to part with him, vou shall have him without another word." " Take time to consider of it," replied Wood, sulkily, " there's no hurry." " Don't be angry with me, sir," cried the widow, sobbing bitterly; "pray, don't. I know lam undeserving of your bounty; but if I were to tell you what hardships I have undergone — to what frightful extremities I have been reduced — and to what infamy I have submitted, to earn a scanty subsistence for this child's sake : — it' you could feel what it is to stand alone in the world as I do, bereft of all who have ever loved me, and shunned by all who have ever known me, except the worthless and the wretched ; — if you knew (and Heaven grant you may be spared the knowledge !) how much affliction sharpens love, and how much more dear to me my child has become for every sacri- fice I have made for him ; — if you were told all this, you would, I am sure, pity rather than reproach me, because I cannot at once consent to a separation, which I feel would break my heart. But give me till to-morrow — only till to-morrow — I may be able to part with him then." The worthy carpenter was now far more angry with himself than he had previously been with Mrs. Sheppard ; and, as soon as he could command his feelings, which were considerably excited by the mention of her distresses, he squeezed her hand warmly, bestowed a hearty execration upon his own inhumanity, and swore he would neither separate her from her child, nor suffer any one else to separate them. " Plague on't ! " added he : " I never meant to take your babby from you. But IM a mind to try whether you really loved him as much as you pretended. I was to blame to carry the matter go far. However, confession of a fault makes halt amends for it. A time may come when this little chap will need my aid, aud, depend upon it, he shall never want a friend in Owen Wood." As he said this, the carpenter patted the cheek of the little object of his benevolent professions, and, in so doing, unintention- ally aroused him from his slumbers. Opening a pair of large 8 jack sriErrARD. black eyes, the child fixed them for an instant upon Wood, and then, alarmed by the light, uttered a low and melancholy cry, which, however, was speedily stilled by the caresses of his mother, towards whom he extended his tiny arms, as if imploring protection. " I don't think he would leave me, even if I could part with him," observed Mrs. Sheppard, smiling through her tears. "I don't think he Avould," acquiesced the carpenter. "No friend like the mother, for the babby knows no other." "And that's true," rejoined Mrs. Sheppard ; "for if I had not been a mother, I would not have survived the day on which I became a widow.'" "You mustn't think of that, Mrs. Sheppard," said Wood- in a soothing tone. " I can't help thinking of it," sir, answered the widow. " I can never get poor Tom's last, look out of my head, as he stood in the Stone-Hall at Newgate, after his irons had been knocked off, unless I manage to stupefy myself somehow. The dismal tolling of St. Sepulchre's bell is for ever ringing in my ears — oh !" " If that's the case," observed Wood, " I'm surprised you ghould like to have such a frightful picture constantly in view as that over the chimneypiece." "I'd good reasons for placing it there, sir; but don't question me about them now, or you'll drive me mad," returned Mr3» Sheppard, wildly. "Well, well, we'll say no more about it," replied Wood; "and, by way of changing the subject, let me advise you on no account to fly to strong waters for consolation, Joan. One nr.. ; l drives out another, it's true ; but the worst nail you can employ is a coffin-nail. Gin Lane's the nearest road to the churchyard." " It may be ; but if it shortens the distance and lightens the journey, I care not," retorted the widow, who seemed by this reproach to be roused into sudden eloquence. " To those who, like me, have never been able to get out of the dark and dreary paths of life, the grave is indeed a refuge, and the sooner they reach it the better. The spirit I drink may be poison — it may kill me — perhaps it is killing me : — but so would hunger, cold, misery — so would my own thoughts. I should have gone mad without it. Gin is the poor man's friend — his sole set-off against the rich man's luxury. It comforts him when he is most forlorn. It may be treacherous, it may lay up a store of future woe; but it insures present happiness, and that is sufficient. When I have traversed the streets a houseless wanderer, driven with curses from every door where I have solicited alms, and with blows from everv gateway where I have sought shelter — when I have crept into some deserted building, and stretched my weary limbs upon a bulk, in the vain hope of repose — or, worse than all, when, frenzied with want, 1 have yielded to horrible temptation, and • . THE WIDOW AND IIEIi CHILD £ earned a meal in the only way I could earn one — when I have felt, at times like these, my heart sink within me, I have drank of this drink, and have at once forgotten my cares, my poverty, my guilt. Old thoughts, old feelings, old face3, and old scenes,, have returned to me, and I have fancied myself happy — as happy as I am now." And she burst into a wild hysterical laugh. "Poor creature!" ejaculate J Wood. " Do you call this frantic glee happiness ?" "It's all the happiness I have known for years," returned the widow, becoming suddenly calm, u and it's shortlived enough,, as you perceive. I tell you what, Mr. Wood," added she in a hollow voice, and with a ghastly look, "gin may bring ruin; but as long as poverty, vice, and ill-usage exist, it will be drunk." " God forbid !" exclaimed Wood, fervently ; and, as if afraid of prolonging the interview, he added, with some precipitation, "but I must be going : I've staved here too long already. You shall hear from me to-morrow." "Stay!" said Mrs. Slieppard, again arresting his departure. "I've just recollected that my husband left a key with me, which lie charged me to give you when I could find an oppor- tunity." " A key !" exclaimed Wood, eagerly. " I lost a very valuable one some time ago. What's it like, Joan? " " It's a small key, with curiously-fashioned wards." 'It's mine, I'll be sworn!" rejoined Wood. "Well, who'd' have thought of finding it in this unexpected way !" " Don't be too sure till you see it," said the widow. " Shall I fetch it for you, sir? " " By all means." " I must trouble you to hold the child, then, for a minute,, while I run up to the garret, where I've hidden it for safety," said Mrs. Sheppard. "I think I may trust him with you, sir," added she, taking up the candle. " Don't leave him, if you're at all fearful, my dear," replied Wood, receiving the little burthen with a laugh. " Poor thing !" muttered he, as the widow departed on her errand, " she's seen better days and better circumstances than she'll ever see again, I'm sure. Strange, I could never learn her history. Tom Sheppard was always a close file, and would never tell whom he married Of this I'm certain, however, she was much too good for him, and was never meant to be a journeyman carpenters' wife, still less what she is now. Her heart's in the right place, at all events ; and, since that's the case, the rest may perhaps come round — that is, if she gets through her present illness. A dry cough's the trumpeter of death. If that's true, she's not long for this world. As to this little fellow, in spite of the Dutchman, who, in my opinion, is more of a Jacobite than a 10 JACK SFIEPrARD. conjurer, and more of a knave than either, he shall never mount a horse foaled by an acorn, if I can help it." The course of the carpenter's meditations was here interrupted by a loud note of lamentation from the child, who, disturbed by the transfer, and not receiving the gentle solace to which he was ordinarily accustomed, raised his voice to the utmost, and exerted his feeble strength to escape. For a few moments Mr. Wood dangled his little charge to and fro, after the most approved nursery fashion, essaying at the same time the soothing influence of an infantine melody proper to the occasion ; but, failing in his design, he soon lost all patience, and being, as we have before hinted, rather irritable, though extremely well- meaning, he lifted the unhappy bantling in the air, and shook him with so much good-will, ihat he had wellnigh silenced him most effectually. A brief calm succeeded. But with returning breath came returning vociferations ; and the carpenter, with a faint hope of lessening the clamour by change of scene, took up his lantern, opened the door, and walked out. CHAPTER II.— THE OLD MINT. Mrs. Sheppard's habitation terminated a row of old ruinous buildings, called Wheeler's Rents ; a dirty thoroughfare, part street, and part lane, running from Mint Street, through a variety of turnings, and along the brink of a deep kennel, skirted by a number of pretty and neglected gardens in the direction of Saint George's Fields. The neighbouring houses were tenanted by the lowest order of insolvent traders, thieves, mendicants, and other worthless and nefarious characters, who fled thither to escape from their creditors, or to avoid the punishment due to their dif- ferent offences; for we may observe that the Old Mint, although it had been divested of some of its privileges as a sanctuary by a recent statute passed in the reign of William the Third, still presented a safe asylum to the debtor, and even continued to do so until the middle of the reign of George the First, when the crying nature of the evil called loudly for a remedy, and another and more sweep- ing enactment entirely took away its immunities. In consequence of the encouragement thus offered to dishonesty, and the security afforded to crime, this quarter of the Borough of Southwark was accounted (at the period of our narrative) the grand receptacle of the superfluous villany of the metropolis. Infested by every description of vagabond and miscreant, it was, perhaps, a few degrees worse than the rookery near Saint Giles s and the des- perate neighbourhood of Saffron Hill in our own time. And yet, on the very site of the sordid tenements and squalid courts we have mentioned, where the felon op'jnly made his dwelling, and THE OLD MINT. 11 the fraudulent debtor laughed the object of his knavery to scorn — on this spot, not two centuries ago, stood the princely residence of Charles Brandon, the chivalrous Duke of Suffolk, whose stout heart was a well of honour, and whose memory breathes of loyalty and valour. Suffolk House, as Brandon's palace was denominated, was subsequently converted into a mint by his royal brother-in- law, Henry the Eighth ; and, after its demolition, and the removal of the place of coinage to the Tower, the name was still continued to the district in which it had been situated. Old and dilapidated, the widow's domicile looked the very pic- ture of desolation and misery. Nothing more forlorn could be conceived. The roof was partially untiled ; the chimneys were tottering; the side-walls bulged, and were supported by a piece of timber propped against the opposite house; the glass in most of the windows was broken, and its place supplied with paper; while in some cases the very frames of the windows had been destroyed, and the apertures were left free to the airs of heaven. On the ground floor the shutters were closed, or, to speak more correctly, altogether nailed up, and presented a very singular appearance, being patched all over with the soles of old shoes, rusty hobnails, and bits of iron hoops, tin 1 ingenious device of the former occupant of the apartment, Paul Groves, the cobbler, to whom we have before alluded. It was owing to the untimely end of this poor fellow that Mrs. Sheppard was enabled to take possession of the premises. In a fit of despondency, superinduced by drunkenness, he made away with himself: and when the body was discovered, after a lapse of some months, such was the impression produced by the spectacle — such the alarm occasioned by the crazy state of the building, and, above all, by the terror inspired by strange and unearthly noises heard during the night, which were, of course, attributed to the spirit of the suicide, that the place speedily enjoyed the reputa- tion of being haunted, and was, consequently, entirely abandoned. In this state Mrs- Sheppard found it ; and, as no one opposed her, she at once took up her abode there; nor was she long in dis- covering that the dreaded sounds proceeded from the nocturnal gambols of a legion of rats. A narrow entry, formed by two low walls, communicated with the main thoroughfare ; and in this passage, under the cover of a penthouse, stood Wood with his little burthen, to whom we shall now return. As Mrs. Sheppard did not make her appearance quite so soon as he expected, the carpenter became a litlc fidgety, and, having succeeded in tranquillizing the child, bethought proper to walk so far down the entry as would enable him to reconnoitre the upper windows of the house. A light was visible in the garret, feebly struggling through the damp atmosphere, for the night was raw and overcast. This light did not remain stationary, but could be 12 JACK RIIEPPARD. seen at one moment glimmering through the rents in the roof, and at another shining through the cracks in the wall, or the broken panes of the casement. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance hnd fallen upon the floor. Before Wood had time to inquire into the cause of this sound, his attention was diverted by a man, who rushed past the entry with the swiftness of desperation. This individual apparently met with some impediment to his further progress ; for he had not pro- ceeded many steps when he turned suddenly about, and darted up the passage in which Wood stood. Uttering a few inarticulate ejaculations — for he was completely out of breath — the fugitive placed a bundle in the arms of the car- penter, and, regardless of the consternation he excited in the breast of that personage, who was almost stupefied with astonishment, he began to divest himself of a heavy horseman's cloak, which he threw over Wood's shoulder, and, drawing his sword, seemed to listen intently for the approach of his pursuers. The appearance of the new- comer was extremely prepossessing ; and, after his trepidation had a little subsided, Wood began to regard him with some degree of interest. Evidently in the flower of his age, he was scarcely less remarkable for symmetry of person than for comeliness of feature ; and, though his attire was plain and unpretending, it was such as could be worn only by one be- longing to the higher ranks of society. His figure was tall and commanding, and the expression of his countenance (though somewhat disturbed by his recent exertion), was resolute and stern. At this juncture, a cry burst from the child, who, nearly smo- thered by the weight imposed upon him, only recovered the use of his lungs as Wood altered the position of the bundle. Tho stranger turned his head at the sound. " By Heaven !" cried he in a tone of surprise, " you have an infant there !" " To be sure I have," replied Wood, angrily; for, finding that the intentions of the stranger were pacific, so far as he was con- cerned, he thought he might safely venture on a slight display of spirit. " It's very well you haven't crushed the poor little thing to death with this confounded clothes-bag. But some people have no consideration." "That child may be the means of saving me," muttered the stranger, as if struck by a new idea : " I shall gain time by the expedient. Do you live here ?" •'Not exactly," answered the carpenter. " No matter. The door is open, so it is needless to ask leave to enter. Ha !" exclaimed the stranger, as shouts and other voci- ferations resounded at no in-*iat distance along the thoroughfare, THE OLD 51 INT. 13 u not a moment is to be lost. Give me that precious charge," lie added, snatching the bundle from Wood. " If I escape, I will reward you. Your name." " Owen Wood," replied the carpenter; " l\c no reason to be ashamed of it. And now, a fair exchange, sir. Yours !" The stranger hesitated. The shouts drew nearer, and lights were seen flashing ruddily against the sides and gables of the neighbouring houses. " My name is Darrcl," said the fugitive hastily. " I>ut, if you are discovered, answer no questions, as you value your life. Wrap yourself in my cloak, and keep it. Remember! nol a word!" So saving, he huddled the mantle over Wood's shoulders, dashed the lantern to the ground, and extinguished the light. A moment afterwards, the door was closed and bolted, ami ihe carpenter found himself alone. "Mercy on us!" cried he, as a thrill of apprehension ran through his frame. " The Dutchman was right, alter all." This exclamation had scarcely escaped him, when the dis- charge of a pistol was heard, and a bullet whizzed past his ears. " I have him !" cried a voice in triumph. A man then rushed up the entry, and, seizing the unlucky carpenter by the collar, presented a drawn sword to his throat. This person was speedily followed by half a dozen others, some of whom carried flambeaux. " Mur — der !" roared Wood, struggling to free himself from his assailant, by whom he was half strangled. " Damnation !" exclaimed one of the leaders of the party in a furious tone, snatching a torch from an attendant, and throwing its light full upon the face of the carpenter; "this is not the villain, Sir Cecil." "So I find, Rowland," replied the other, in accents of deep disappointment, and at the same time relinquishing his grasp. " I could have sworn I saw him enter this passage. And how comes his cloak on this knave's shoulders?" "It is his cloak, of a surety," returned Rowland. " Harkye, sirrah," continued he, haughtily interrogating Wood ; " where is the person from whom you received this mantle?" ''Throttling a man isn't the way to make him answer questions," replied the carpenter, doggedly. " You'll get nothing out of me, I can promise you, unless you show a little more civility." " We waste time with this fellow," interposed Sir Cecil, " and may lose the object of our quest, who, beyond doubt, has taken refuge in this building. Let us search it." Just then the infant began to sob piteously. "Hist!" cried Rowland, arresting his comrade. "Do you hear that ? We are not wholly at fault. The dog-fox cannot be far oil' since the cub is found." 14 JACK BHEPPABfr. With those words, he tore the mantle from Wood's back. and, perceiving the child, endeavoured to seize it. In this attempt he was, however, foiled by the agility of the carpenter, who managed to retreat to the door, against which he placed his back, kicking the boards vigorously with his heel. "Joan! Joan!" vociferated he, "open the door, for God's sake, or I shall be murdered, and so will your babby ! Open the door quickly, I say !" " Knock him on the head," thundered Sir Cecil, " or we shall have the watch upon us." " No fear of that," rejoined Rowland ; " such vermin never dare to show themselves in this privileged district. All we have to apprehend is a rescue." The hint was not lost upon Wood. He tried to raise an outcry, but his throat was again forcibly griped by Rowland. " Another such attempt," said the latter, " and you are a dead man. Yield up the babe, and I pledge my word you shall remain unmolested." " I will yield it to no one but its mother," answered "Wood. "\Sdeath! do you trifle with me, sirrah?" cried Rowland fiercely. " Give me the child, or " As he spoke the door was thrown open, and Mrs. Sheppard staggered forward. She looked paler than ever ; but her counte- nance, though bewildered, did not exhibit the alarm which might naturally have been anticipated from the strange and perplexing scene presented to her view. " Take it," cried Wood, holding the infant towards her ; " take it, and fly." Mrs. Sheppard put out her arms mechanically. But before the child conld be committed to her care, it was wrested from the carpenter by Rowland. " These people are all in league with him," cried the latter. " But don't wait for me, Sir Cecil. Enter the house with your men. I'll dispose of the brat." This injunction was instantly obeyed. The knight and hia followers crossed the threshold, leaving one of the torch-bearers behind them. " Davies," said Rowland, delivering the babe, with a meaning look, to his attendant. " I understand, sir," replied Davies, drawing a little a>ide And, setting down the link, he proceeded deliberately to untie his cravat. " My God ! will you see your child strangled before your eycs > and not so much as scream for help?" said Wood, staring at the widow with a look of surprise and horror. " Woman, your wits are fled !" And so it seemed ; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, " I can't find the key." THE OLD 3IIN T T. 15 "Devil take the key !" ejaculated Wood. "They're about to murder your child — your child, I tell you ! Do you comprehend what I say, Joan ?" "I've hurt my head," replied Mrs. Sheppard, pressing her hand to her temples. And then, for the first time, Wood noticed a small stream of blood coursing slowly down her cheek. At this moment, Davies, w T ho had completed his preparations, extinguished the torch. " It's all over, groaned Wood, " and perhaps it's as well her senses are gone. However, I'll make a last effort (to save the poor little creature) if it costs me my life." And, with this generous resolve, he shouted at the top of his voice, "Arrest! arrest! help! help!" seconding the words with a shrill and peculiar cry, well known at the time to the inhabitants of the quarter in which it was uttered. In reply to this summons a horn was instantly blown at the cor- ner of the street. "Arrest !" vociferated Wood. " Mint ! Mint !" "Death and hell!" cried Rowland, making a furious pass at the carpenter, who fortunately avoided the thrust in the darkness ; "will nothing silence you?" " Help !" ejaculated Wood, renewing his cries. " Arrest !" "Jigger closed!" shouted a hoarse voice in reply. "All's bowman, my covey. Fear nothing. We'll be upon the bandogs before they can shake their trotters I" And the alarm was sounded more loudly than ever. Another horn now resounded from the further extremity of the thoroughfare; this was answered by a third ; and presently a fourth and more remote blast took up the note of alarm. The whole neighbourhood was disturbed. A garrison called to arms at dead of night on the sudden approach of the enemy, could not have been more expeditiously or effectually aroused. Rattles were sprung ; lanterns lighted, and hoisted at the end of poles ; windows thrown open; doors unbarred; and. as if by magic, the street was instantaneously filled with a crowd of persons of both sexes, armed with such weapons as came most readily to hand, and dressed in such garments as could be most easily slipped on. Hurrying in the direction of the supposed arrest, they encouraged each other with shouts, and threatened the offending parties with their vengeance. Regardless, as the gentry of the Mint usually were (for, indeed, they had become habituated from their frequent occurrence to such scenes), of any outrages committed in their streets; deaf, as they had been, to the recent scuffle before Mrs. Sheppard's door, they were always sufficiently on the alert to maintain their privi- leges, and to assist each other against the attacks of their com- mon enemy — the sheriff's officer. It was only by the adoption of J<> JACK BHEPPATID. such a course (especially since the lute act of suppression, to which we have alluded) that the inviolability of the asylum could be preserved. Incursions were often made upon its territo- ries by the functionaries of the law — sometimes attended with success, but more frequently with discomfiture ; and it rarely happened, unless by stratagem or bribery, that (in the language of the gentlemen of the short staff) an important caption could be effected. In order to guard against accidentsor surprises, watchmen, or scouts (as they were styled), were stationed at the three main outlets of the sanctuary, ready to give the signal in the manner just described: bars were erected, which in ease of emergency could be immediately stretched acrossthe streets; doors were attached to the alleys, and were never opened without due precautions ; gates were affixed to the courts, wickets to the gates, and bolts to the wickets. The back windows of the houses (where any such existed) were strongly barricaded, and kept constantly shut; and the fortress was, furthermore, defended by high walls and deep ditches in those quarters where it appeared most exposed. There was also a Maze (the name is still retained in the district) into which the debtor could run, and through the intricacies of which it was impossible for an officer to follow him, without a clue. Whoever chose to incur the risk of so doing might enter the Mint at any hour; but no one was suffered to depart without giving a satisfactory account of himself, or producing a pass from the Master. In short, every contrivance that ingenuity could devise was resorted to by this horde of reprobates to secure themselves from danger or molesta- tion. Whitefriars had lost its privileges ; Salisbury Court and *t« Savoy no longer offered places of refuge to the debtor ; and it was, therefore, doubly requisite that the Island of Bermuda (as the Mint was termed by its occupants) should uphold its rights, as long as it was able to do so. Mr. Wood, meantime, had not remained idle. Aware that not a moment was to be lost, if he meant to render any effectual assis- tance to the child, he ceased shouting, and defending himself in the best way he could from the attacks of Rowland, by whom he was closely pressed, forced his way, in spite of all opposition, to Davies, and dealt him a blow r on the head with such good-will, that, had it not been for the intervention of the wall, the ruffian must have been prostrated. Before he could recover from the stunning effects of the blow, Wood possessed himself of the child ; and, untying the noose which had been slipped round its throat, had the satisfaction of hearing it cry lustily. At this juncture, Sir Cecil and his followers appeared at the threshold. " He has escaped !" exclaimed the knight; " we have searches every corner of the house without finding a trace of him.'" "Back!" cried Rowland. "Don't you hear those shoutsl Yon fellow's clamour has brought the whole horde of jail-birds TTTF. OT.D MTST. 17 and cut-throats that infest this place about our ears. We shall be torn in pieces if we are discovered. Davies ! " he added, call- ing to the attendant, who was menacing Wood with a severe retaliation, " don't heed him ; but, if you value a whole skin, comi into the house, and bring that woman with you. She may afford U3 some necessary information." Davies reluctantly complied. And dragging Mrs. Shcppard, who made no resistance, along with him, entered the house, the door of which was instantly shut and barricaded. A moment afterwards, the street was illumined by a blaze of torchlight, and a tumultuous upro ir, mixed with the clashing of weapons, and the braying of horns, announced the arrival of the first detnehment of Minters. Mr. Wood rushed instantly to meet them. "Hurrah!" shouted he, waving bis hat triumphantly over hi9 head. "Saved!" " Ay, ay, it's all bob, my covey ! You're safe enough, that's certain!" responded the Minters, baying, yelping, leaping, and howling around him like a pack of hounds when the huntsman is beating cover; " but, where are the lurchers? -1 "Who?" asked Wood. "Thp traps!" responded a bystander. " The shoulder-clappers !" added a lady, who, in her anxiety to join the party, had unintentionally substituted her husband's nether habiliments for her own petticoats. "The bandogs!" thundered a tall man, whose stature and former avocations had procured him the nickname of "The long drover of the Borough market." " Where are they ?" "Ay, where are they?" chorused the mob, flourishing their various weapons, and flashing their torches in the air: "we'll ■serve 'em out." Mr. Wood trembled. He felt he had raised a storm which i* would be very difficult, if not impossible, to allay. He knew not what to say, or what to do ; and his confusion was increased by the threatening gestures and furiow> looks of the ruffians in his immediate vicinity. " I don't understand you, gentlemen," stammered he, at length. " What does he say?" roared the long drover. " He says he don't understand flash," replied the lady in gen- tleman's attire. "Cease your confounded clutter ! " said a young man, win \ swarthy visage, seen in the torchlight, struck Wood as beiig that of a Mulatto. "You frighten the cull out of his senses. It's plain he don't understand our lingo; as, how should he'i Take pattern by me;" and as he said this he strode up to the carpenter, and, slapping him on the shoulder, propounded the following questions, accompanying each interrogation with a c 18 JACK SHEPPAftt). formidable contortion of countenance. IC Curse you ! where are the bailiffa ? Rot you ! have you lost your tongue ? Devil seize you ! you could bawl loud enough a moment a to! " 11 Silence, Blueskin ! " interposed an authoritative voice, im- mediately behind the ruffian. " Let me have a word with the cull!" " Ay ! ay ! " cried several of the bystanders, " let Jonathan kimbaw the cove. He's got the gift of the gab." The croud accordingly drew aside, and the individual, in whose behalf the movement had been made, immediately stepped forward. He was a young man of about two-and-twenty, who, without having any thing remarkable either in dress or appear- ance, was yet a noticeable person, if only for the indescribable expression of cunning pervading his countenance. His eyes were small and grey ; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox. A physiognomist, indeed, would have likened him to that crafty animal, and it must be owned the general formation of his features favoured such a comparison. The nose was long and sharp, the chin pointed, the forehead broad and flat, and connected, without any intervening hollow, with the eyelid; the teeth, when displayed, seemed to reach from ear to ear. Then his beard was of a reddish hue, and his complexion warm and sanguine. Those who had seen him slumbering, averred that he slept with his eyes open. But this might be merely .a figurative mode of describing his customary vigilance. Certain it was, that the slightest sound aroused him. This astute per- sonage was somewhat under the middle size, but fairly pro- portioned, inclining rather to strength than symmetry, and abounding more in muscle than in flesh. It would seem, from the attention which he evidently be- . stowed upon the hidden and complex machinery of the grand system of villainy at work around him, that his chief object, in taking up his quarters in the Mint, must have been to obtain some private information respecting the habits and practices •of its inhabitants, to be turned to account hereafter. Advancing towards Wood, Jonathan fixed his keen grey eyes upon him, and demanded, in a stern tone, whether the persons who had taken refuge in the adjoining house were bailiffs. " Not that I know of," replied the carpenter, who had in some •degree recovered his confidence. " Then 1 presume you've not been arrested ? " "I have not," answered Wood, firmly. " I guessed as much. Perhaps you'll next inform us why you -have occasioned this disturbance?" " Because this child's life was threatened by the persons you have mentioned," rejoined Wood. "An excellent reason, i' faith!" exclaimed Blueskin, v.ith ■a. roar of surprise and indignation, which was echoed by the THE OT/D MINT. 19 whole assemblage. " And so we're to be summoned from our beds and snug- firesides, because a kid happens to squall, eh? By the soul of my grandmother, but this is too good !" lt Do you intend to claim the privileges of the Mint ? " said Jonathan, calmly pursuing his interrogations amid the uproar. " Is your person in danger ! " " Not from my creditors," replied Wood, significant! v. " Will he post the cole ! Will he come down with the dues ? Ask him that ? " cried Blucskin. u You hear,'' pursued Jonathan ; " my friend desires to know if you are willing to pay your footing as a member of the ancient and respectable fraternity of debtors I *' " I owe no man a farthing, and my name shall never appear in any such rascally list," replied Wood, angrily. " I don't see why I should be obliged to pay for doing my duty. I tell you this child would have been strangled. The noose was at its throat when I called for help. 1 knew it was in vain to cry * murder !' in the Mint, so I had recourse to stratagem." " Well, sir, I must say you deserve some credit for your inge- nuity, at all events," replied Jonathan, repressing a smile ; " but, before you put out your foot so far, it would have been quite aa prudent to consider how you were to draw it back again. For my own part I don't see in what way it is to be accomplished, except by the payment of our customary fees. Do not imagine you can at one moment avail yourself of our excellent regulations (with which you seem sufficiently well acquainted), and the next break them with impunity. If you assume the character of a debtor for your own convenience, you must be content to main- tain it for ours. If you have not been arrested, we have been disturbed ; and it is but just and reasonable you should pay for occasioning such disturbance. By your own showing you are in easy circumstances — for it is only natural to presume that a man who owes nothing must be in a condition to pay liberally — and you cannot therefore feel the loss of such a trifle as ten guineas." However illogical and inconclusive these arguments might appear to Mr. Wood, and however he might dissent from the latter proposition, he did not deem it expedient to make any reply : and the orator proceeded with his harangue amid the general applause of the assemblage. " I am perhaps exceeding my authority in demanding so slight a sum," continued Jonathan, modestly, " and the Master of the Mint may not be disposed to let you off so lightly. He will be here in a moment or so, and you will then learn his determination. In the mean time, let me advise you as a friend not to irritata him by a refusal, which would be as useless as vexatious. He has a very summary mode of dealing with refractory persons, I assure you. My best endeavours shall be used to bring you of£ on the easv terms I have mentioned." 20 JACK SIIEPPARD. " Do yon call ton guineas easy terms ? " cried Wood, with a look of dismay. k - Why, I should expect to purchase the entire freehold of the Mint for less money." 1 " Many a man has been glad to pay double the amount to get his head from under the Mint pump,'* observed Blueskin, gruffly. " Let the gentleman take his own course," said Jonathan, mildly. " I should be sorry to persuade him to do any thing his calmer judgment might disapprove." " Exactly my sentiments," rejoined Blueskin. u I wouldn't force him for the world ; but if he don't tip the stivers, may I be cursed if he don't get a taste of the aqua pompar/iiiis. Let's have a look at the kinchen that aught to have been throttled," added he, snatching the child from Wood. " My stars ! here's a pretty lullaby-cheat to make a fuss about— ho ! ho !" " Deal with me as you think proper, gentlemen," exclaimed Wood ; u but for mercy's sake don't harm the child ! Let it be taken to its mother." " And who is its mother?" asked Jonathan, in an e.^ger whisper. " Tell me frankly, and speak under your breath. Your own safety — the child's safety — depends upon your can- dour." While Mr Wood underwent this examination, Blueskin felt a small trembling hand placed upon his own, and, turning at the summons, beheld a young female, whose features were partially con- cealed by a loo, or half mask, standing beside him. Coarse as were the ruffian's notions of feminine beauty, he could not be in- sensible to the surpassing loveliness of the fair creature who had thus solicited his attention. Her figure was in some measure bidden by a large scarf, and a deep hood drawn over the head contributed to her disguise; still it was evident, from her lofty bearing, that she had nothing in common, except an interest in their proceedings, with the crew by whom she was surrounded Whence she came — who she was — and what she wanted- were questions which naturally suggested themselves to Blueskin, and he was about to seek for some explanation, when his curiosity was checked by a gesture of silence from the lady. " Hush ! " said she, in a low but agitated voice ; " would you earn this purse ? " "I've no objection," replied Blueskin, in a tone intended to be gentle, but which sounded like the murmuring whine of a playful bear. " How much is there in it ? "' {i It contains gold," replied the lady ; " but I will add this rinjr." " What am I to do to earn it ?" asked Blueskin, with a disgust- ing leer, — " cut a throat — or throw myself at your feet — eh, my dear?" "Give me that child," returned the lady, with difficulty ovejv coming the loathing inspired by tl e ruffian's familiarity. Tilt; MASTFI. OF THE MINT. 21 "Oh ! I see !" replied Blucskin, winking significantly. "Come nearer, or they'll observe us. Don't be afraid — I won't hurt yon. I'm always agreeable to the women, bless their kind hearts! Now ! slip the purse into my hand. Bravo ! — the best cly-'aker of 'em all couldn't have done it better. And now for the fawncy — tha ring I mean. I'm no grout judge of these articles, ma'am ; but I trust, to your honour not to palm off paste upon me." "It is a diamond," said the lady, in an agony of distress — a the child!" " A diamond ! Here, take the kid," cried Blucskin, slipping the infant adroitly under her scarf. " And so this is a diamond," added he, contemplating the brilliant from the hollow of his hand: "it does sparkle almost as brightly as your ogles. By the by, my dear, I forgot to ask your name — perhaps you'll oblige me with it now ? Hell and the devil ! — gone !" He looked around in vain. The lady had disappeared. CHATTER ITT. —THE MASTER OF THE MINT. Jonathan, meanwhile, having ascertained the parentage of the child from Wood, proceeded to rjucstion him, in an under tone, as to the probable motives of the attempt upon its life ; and, though he failed in obtaining any information on this point, he hud little difficulty in eliciting such particulars of the mysterious transac- tion as have already been recounted. When the carpenter con- cluded his recital, Jonathan was for a moment lost in reflection. 4i Devilish strange!" thought he, chuckling to himself; "queer business! Capital trick of the cull in the cloak to make another person's brat stand the brunt for his own — capital ! ha ! ha ! Won't do, though. lie must be a sly fox to get out of the Mint without my knowledge. I've a shrewd guess where he's taken refuge; but I'll ferret him out. These bloods will pay well for his capture ; if not, hell pay well to get out of their hands; so I'm safe either way — ha! ha! Blucskin," he added aloud, and motioning that worthy, " follow me." Upon which, he set off in the direction of the entry. His pro- gress, however, was checked by loud acclamations, announcing the arrival of the Master of the Mint and his train. Baptist Kettleby (for so was the Master named) was a "goodly- portly man, and a corpulent," whose fair round paunch bespoke the affection he entertained for good liquor and good living. He had a quick, shrewd, merry eye, and a look in which uuplicity was agreeably veiled by good-humour. It was easy to niscovcr that he was a knave, but equally easy to perceive that he was a pleasant fellow ; a combination of qualities by no mcai.fi of rare occurrence. So far as regards his attire. Baptist was n<,t seen to 22 JACK SHEPrARD. advantage. No great lover of state or state costume at any time, he was generally, towards the close of an evening, completely in dishabille, and in this condition he now presented himself to his subjects. His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered ; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. The Master of the Mint was accompanied by another gentle- man almost as portly as himself, and quite as deliberate in his movements. The costume of this personage was somewhat sin- gular, and might have passed for a masquerading habit, had not the imperturbable gravity of his demeanour forbidden any such supposition. It consisted of a close jerkin of brown frieze, orna- mented with a triple row of brass buttons ; loose Dutch slops, made very wide in the seat and very tight at the knees ; red stockings with black clocks, and a fur cap. The owner of this dress had a broad weatherbeaten face, small twinkling eyes, and a bushy, grizzled beard. Though he walked by the side of the governor, he seldom exchanged a word with him, but appeared wholly absorbed in the contemplations inspired by a broad-bowled Dutch pipe. Behind the illustrious personages just described marched a troop of stalwart fellows, with white badges in their hats, quarter-staves, oaken cudgels, and links in their hands. These were the Master's body-guard. Advancing towards the Master and claiming an audience, which was instantly granted, Jonathan, without much circum- locution, related the sum of the strange story he had just learnt from Wood, omitting nothing except a few trifling particulars, which he thought it politic to keep back ; and with this view, he said not a word of their being any probability of capturing the fugitive, but, on the contrary, roundly asserted that his infor- mant had witnessed that person's escape. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, wink- ed at his phlegmatic companion. The gentleman appealed to shook his head in reply, coughed as only a Dutchman can cough, and, raising his hand from the bowl of his pipe, went through precisely the same mysterious ceremonial as the Master. Putting his own construction upon this mute interchange of opinions, Jonathan ventured to observe, that it certainly was a very perplexing case, but that he thought something might be made of it, and, if left to him, he would undertake to manage the matter to the Master's entire satisfaction. THE MASTER OF THE MINT. 23 " Ja, ja, Muntmeester," said the Dutchman, removing the pipe from his mouth, and speaking in a deep and guttural voice, " leave the affair to Johannes. He'll settle it brately. And let ush go' back to our brandewyn, and hollandsche genever. Dese ere not schouts, as you faind, but jonkers on a vrolvk ; and if dey'd ehan- shed to keel de vrow Sheppard's pet lamb, dey'd have done her a servish, by shaving it from dat unpleasant complaint, de hempen fever, with which its laatter days are threatened, and of which its poor vader died. Myn Got ! haanging runs in some families, Muntmeester. It's hereditary, like de jigt ; vat you call it — gout I —haw! haw!" " If the child is destined to the gibbet, Van Galgebrok," replied the Master, joining in the laugh, " it'll never be choked by a footman's cravat, that's certain; but. in regard to going back empty-handed," continued he, altering his tone, and assuming a dignified air, ''it's quite out of the question. With Baptist Kettleby, to engage in a matter is to go through with it. Besides, this is an affair which no one but myself can settle. Common offences may be decided upon by deputy; but outrages perpetrated by men of rank, as these appear to be, must be judged by the Master of the Mint in person. These are the decrees of the Island of Bermuda, *aml 1 will never suffer it- excellent laws to be violated. Gentlemen of the Mint." added he, pointing with his truncheon towards Mrs. Sheppard's housc r " forward !" " Hurrah!" shouted the mob, and the whole phalanx was put in motion in that direction. At the same moment a martial flourish, proceeding from cows' horns, tin canisters tilled witb stones, bladders and cat-gut, with other sprightly instruments, was struck up, and, enlivened by this harmonious accompaniment, the troop reached its destination in the best possible spirits for an encounter. " Let us in," said the Master, rapping his truncheon autho- ritatively against the boards, or we'll force an entrance." But as no answer was returned to the summons, though it was again, and more peremptorily, repeated, Baptist seized a mallet from a bystander and burst open the door. Followed by Van Galgebrok and others of his retinue, he then rushed into the room, where Rowland, Sir Cecil, and their attendants, stood with drawn swords prepared to receive them. "Beat down their blades," cried the Master: " no bloodshed.*' " Beat out their brains, you mean," rejoined Blueskin with » tremendous imprecation; "no half measures now, Master." " Hadn't you better hold a moment's parley with the gentlemen? before proceeding to extremities?" suggested Jonathan. "Agreed," responded the Master. " Surely,*' he added, staring at Rowland, " either I'm greatly mistaken, or it is " " You are not mistaken, Baptist,"' returned Rowland with a £4 JACK SIIBFFACD. gesture of silence ; " it is your old friend. I'm glad to recognise )OII." •• Ami I'm glad your worship's recognition doesn't come too lit"." observed the Master. ki But why didn't you make your- self known at once ?" 11 I'd forgotten the office yon hold in the Mint, Baptist," replied Rowland. " Bat clear the room of this rabble, if you have sufficient authority over them. I would speak with you." "There.- but one way of clearing it, your worship," said the Master, archly. a I understand," replied Rowland. " Give them what you please. I'll repay you." ••It's all right, pals," cried Baptist, in a loud tone: " thfc gentlemen and I have settled matters. No more scuffling." " What's the meaning of all this 1 ?" demanded Sir Cecil. " How have you contrived to still these troubled waters?" u I've chanced upon an old ally in the Master of the Mint," answered Rowland. " We may trust him," he added in a whisper ; " he is a stanch friend of the good cause." " Blueskin, clear the room." cried the Master; "these gentle- men would be private. They've paid for their lodging. Where's Jonathan?" Inquiries wore instantly made after that individual, but he was nowhere to be found. "Strange!"' observed the Master; " I thought he'd been at my elbow all this time. But it don't much matter — though he's a devilish shrewd fellow, and might have helped me out of a difficulty, had any occurred. Hark ye, Blueskin," continued he, addressing that personage, who, in obedience to his commands, had, with great promptitude, driven out the rabble, and again secured the door, " a word in your ear. What female entered the house with us ? " " Blood and thunder !" exclaimed Blueskin, afraid, if he admit- ted having seen the lady, of being compelled to divide the plunder lie had obtained from her among his companions, "how should I know? D'ye suppose I'm always thinking of the petticoats? I observed no female ; but if any one did join the assault, it must have been either Amazonian Kate, or Fighting Moll." " The woman I mean did not join the assault," rejoined the Master, " but rather seemed to shun observation ; and, from the hasty glimpse I caught of her, she appeared to have a child in her arms." "Then, most probably, it was the widow Sheppard," answered Blueskin, sulkily. " Right," said the Master, " I didn't think of her. And now I've another job for you. v " Propose it," returned Blueskin, inclining his head. u Square accounts with the rascal who got up the sham arrest ; ' THE i:OOF AND THE WINDOW. 25 and, if he don't tip die cole without more ado, give him a taste of the pump, that's all." '* He shall go through the whole course," replied Blueskin, with a ferocious grin, " unless he comes down to the last grig. We'll lather him with mud, shave him with a rusty razor, and drench him with aqua pompaginis. Master, your humble servant. — Gen- tlemen, your most obsequious trout." Having effected his object, which was to get rid of Blueskin, Baptist turned to Rowland and Sir Cecil, who had watched his proceedings with much impatience, and remarked, " Now, gen- tlemen, the coast's clear; we've nothing to interrupt us. I'm entirely at your service." CHAFTER IV.— THE ROOF AND THE WINDOYv". Leaving them to pursue their conference, we shall follow the footsteps of Jonathan, who. as the Master surmised, nnd, as we have intimated, had unquestionably entered the house. But at the beginning of the affray, when he thought every one was too much occupied with his own concerns to remark his absence, he slipped out of the room, not for the purpose of avoiding the en- gagement (for cowardice was not one of his failings), but because he had another object in view. Creeping stealthily up-stairs, un- masking a dark lantern, and glancing into each room as he passed, he was startled in one of them by the appearance of Mrs. Sheppard, who seemed to be crouching upon the floor. Satisfied, however, that she did not notice him, Jonathan glided away as noiselesslv as he came, and ascended another short flight of stairs leading to the garret. As he crossed this chamber, his foot struck against something on the floor, which nearly threw him down, and, stoop- ing to examine the object, he found it was a key. "Never throw away a chance," thought Jonathan. " Who knows but this key may open a golden lock one of these days?" And, picking it up, he thrust it into his pocket. Arrived beneath an aperture in the broken roof, he was prepar- ing to pass through it, when he observed a little heap of tiles upon the floor, which appeared to have been recently dislodged, "lie has passed this way," cried Jonathan, exultingly ; " I have him safe enough." He then closed the lantern, mounted without much difficulty upon the roof, and proceeded cautiously along the tiles. The night was now profoundly dark. Jonathan had to feel his way. A single false step might have precipitated him into tho street: or, if he had trodden upon an unsound part of the root he must have fallen through it. lie had nothing to guide him, 2G jack siiF.rr.vr.D. for though the torches were blazing ruddily below, their "leam fell only on the side of the building. The venturous climber gazed for a moment at the assemblage beneath, to ascertain that he was not discovered; and. having satisfied himself in this particular, he stepped out more boldly. On gaining a stack of chimneys at the back of the house, he came to a pause, and again unmasked his lantern. Nothing, however, could be discerned except the crum- bling brickwork. "Confusion!" ejaculated Jonathan; "can he have escaped? No. The walls are too high, and the windows too stoutly barricaded in this quarter, to admit such a supposition. He can't be far off. I shall find him yet. Ah ! I have it," he added, after a moment's deliberation; "he's there, I'll be sworn." And, once more enveloping himself in darkness, he pursued his course. He had now reached the adjoining house, and, scaling the roof, approached another building, which seemed to be, at least, one story loftier than its neighbours. Apparently, Jonathan was avcII acquainted with the premises ; for, feeling about in the dark, he speedily discovered a Jadder, up the steps of which he hurried. Drawing a pistol, and unclosing his lantern with the quickness of thought, he then burst through an open trap- door into a small loft. The light fell upon the fugitive, who stood before him in an attitude of defence, with the child in his arms. " Aha ! " exclaimed Jonathan, acting upon the information he had obtained from Wood; "I have found you at last. Your servant, Mr. Darrell." " Who are you ?" demanded the fugitive sternly. " A friend," replied Jonathan, uncocking the pistol, and placing it in his pocket. " How do I know you are a friend ? " asked Darrell. " What should I do here alone if I were an enemy ? But, come, don't let us waste time in bandying words, when we might employ it so much more profitably. Your life, and that of your child, are in my power. What will you give me to save you from your pursuers?" " Can you do so ?" asked the other, doubtfully. " I can, and will. Now, the reward ?" "I have but an ill-furnished purse. But, if I escape, my gratitude " '/Pshaw!" interrupted Jonathan, scornfully. "Your grati- tude will vanish with your danger. Pay fools "with promises. I must have something in hand." "You shall have all I have about me," replied Darrell. "Well — well," grumbled Jonathan, "I suppose 1 must be content. An ill-lined purse is a poor recompense for the risk I have run. However, come along. I needn't tell you to tread carefully You know the danger of this, breakneck road as THE ROOF AND THE WINDOW. 27 well as I do. The light would betray us." So saying, he closed the lantern. " Harkye, sir," rejoined Darrell; "one word before I move. I know not who you are ; and, as I cannot discern your face. I may be doing you an injustice. But there is something in your voice that makes me distrust you. If you attempt to play the traitor, you will do so at the hazard of your life." " I have already hazarded my life in this attempt to save you," returned Jonathan, boldly, and with apparent frankness; ''this ought to be sufficient answer to your doubts. Your pursuers are below. What was to hinder me, if I had been so inclined, from directing them to your retreat I" " Enough," replied Darrell. u Lead on !" Followed by Darrell, Jonathan retraced his dangerous path. As he approached the gable of Mrs. Sheppard's house, loud yells and vociferations readied his ears; and, looking downwards, he perceived a great stir amid the mob. The cause of this uproar was soon manifest. Blueskin and the Minters were dragging Wood to the pump. The unfortunate carpenter struggled violently, but ineffectually. His hat was placed upon one pole, his wig on another. Ilis shouts for help were answered by roars of mockery and laughter, lie continued alternately to be tossed in the air, or rolled in the kennel, until he was borne out of sight. The spectacle seemed to afford as much amusement to Jonathan as to the actors engaged in it. lie could not contain his satis- faction, but chuckled, and rubbed his hands with delight. "By Heaven!" cried Darrell, "it is the poor fellow whom I placed in such jeopardy a short time ago. 1 am the cause of his ill-usage." " To be sure you are," replied Jonathan, laughing. " But, what of that? It'll be a lesson to him in future, and will show him the folly of doing a good-natured action ! " But perceiving that his companion did not relish his plea- santry, and fearing that his sympathy for the carpenters situation might betray him into some act of imprudence, Jona- than, without further remark, and by way of putting an end to the discussion, let himself drop through the roof. His example was followed by Darrell. But, though the latter was. somewhat embarrassed by his burthen, he peremptorily declined Jonathans offer of assistance. Both, however, having safely landed, they cautiously crossed the room, and passed down the first flight of steps in silence. At this moment, a door was opened below; lights gleamed on the walls; and th.3 figures of Rowland and Si* Cecil were distinguished at the foot of the stairs. Darrell stopped, and drew his sword. " You have betrayed me, 1 ' said he, in a deep whisper, to his companion ; but you shall reap the reward of your treachery." 28 JACK SIIEPPABD. " Be still ! " returned Jonathan, in the same under tone, ami "with great self-possession : " I can yet save you. And sec ! "' lie added, a? the figures drew back, and the lights disappeared ; "it's a false alarm. They have retired. However, not a mo- ment is to be lost. Give mc your hand." Pie then hurried Darrell down another short flight of steps, and entered a small chamber at the bach of the house. Closing the door, Jonathan next produced his lantern, and, hastening towards the window, undrew a bolt by which it was fastened. A stout wooden shutter, opening inwardly, being removed, disclosed a grating of iron bars. This obstacle, which appeared to preclude the possibility of egress in that quarter, was speedily got rid of. Withdrawing another bolt, and unhooking a chain suspended from the top of the casement, Jonathan pushed the iron framework outwards. The bars dropped noiselessly and slowly down, till the chain tightened at the staple. " You are free," said he, ki that grating forms a ladder, by which you may descend in safety. I learnt the trick of the place from one Paid Groves, who used to live here, and who con- trived the machine. He used to call it his fire escape — ha! ha! I've often used the ladder for my own convenience, but I never expected to turn it to such good account. And now, sir, have I kept faith with you ?" " Yon have," replied Darrell. " Here is my purse ; and I trust you will let me know to whom I am indebted for this important service." " It matters not who I am," replied Jonathan, taking the money. " As I said before, I have little reliance upon professions of gratitude." " I know not how it is," sighed Darrell, " but 1 feel an unaccountable misgiving at quitting this place. Something tells me I am rushing on greater danger." " You know best," replied Jonathan, snecringly; " but if I were in your place, I would take the chance of a future and uncertain risk to avoid a present and certain peril." " You are right," replied Darrell ; " the weakness is past. Which is the nearest way to the river?" " Why, it is an awkward road to direct you," returned Jona- than. " But if you turn to the right when you reach the ground, and keep close to the Mint wall, you'll speedily arrive at White ttoni 'd bowl from which all the tine fellows, Who pass'd by that spot, on their way to the gallows, Might tipple strung beer, Their spirits to cheer, And drown in a sea of good liquor, all fear ! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles /So well as a draught from the Bowl of tit. Uilesl II. By many a highwayman many a draught Of nutty-brown ale at St. Giles's was quaft, Until the old lazar-house chanced to fall down, And the broad-bottoiu'd bowl was removed to the Crown. Where the robber may cheer, , His spirit with beer, And drown in a sea of good liquor all fear ! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles Ho well as a draught from the Bowl of tit. Giles ! • At the hospital of Saint Giles fur Lazars. the prisoners conveyed from th» City i.t London towards Tyburn, there to he executed for treasons, felonies, or other trespasses, were presented with a Bowl of Ale, thereof to drink, as their last re» freshiu:; in this life. — titrype's Stow. Book ix. eh. iii. THE DENUNCIATION. Ill, There MuLSACK and Swiftnbck, both prigs from their birth, Old Mob and Tom Cox, took their last draught on earth : There Kandal, and Shorter, and Whitney pull'd up, And jolly Jack Joyce drank his finishing cup ! For a can of ale calms , A highwayman's qualms, And makes him sing blithely his dolorous psalms ! And nothing the transit to Tyburn beg'iilet So well as a draught from the Bowl of St. Giles / " Singing's dry work,"" observed the stranger, pausing to take a pull at the bottle. "And now, widow," he continued, "attend to the next verse, for it concerns a friend o' yours." IV. When gallant Tom Siieppard to Tyburn was led, — " Stop the cart at the Crown — stop a moment," he said. He was offer'd the Bowl, but he left it and smiled, Crying, " Keep it till call'd for by Jonathan Wild ! " The rascal one day " Will puss by this way, u And drink a full measure to moisten his clay ! u A nd never will Bowl of St. Giles have beguiled " Such a thorough-paced scoundrel as Jonathan Wild !" v. Should it e'er be my lot to ride backwards that way, At the door of the Crown I will certainly stay ; I'll summon the landlord — I'll call for the Bowl, And drink a deep draught to the health of my soul! Whatever may hap, Til taste of the tap, To keep tip my spirits when brought to the crap! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of St. Giles ! "Devil seize the woman!" growled the singer, as lie brought his ditty to a close; "will nothing tempt her out? Widow Sheppard, I say," he added, rising, " don't be afraid. It's only a gentleman come to offer you his hand. * lie that woos a maid,' — fol-de-rol — (hiccuping.) — I'll soon find you out." Mrs. Sheppard, whose distress at the consumption of the pro- visions had been somewhat allayed by the anticipation of the in- truder's departure after lie had satisfied his appetite, was now terrified in the extreme by seeing a light approach, and hearing footsteps on the stairs. Her first impulse was to fly to the win- dow: and she was about to pass through it, at the risk of sharing the fate of the unfortunate lady, when her arm was grasped by some one in the act of ascending the ladder from without. Utter- ing a faint scream, she sank backwards, and would have fallen, if it had not been for the interposition of Blueskin, who, at that moment, staggered into tho room with a candle in one hand, aud the bottle in the other. T) 34 JACK SIIEITAKD. "Oil, you're here, are you?" said the ruffian with an exulting laugh : u I've been looking for you every where." " Let me go," implored Mrs. Sheppard, — " pray, let me go. You hurt the child. Don't you hear how you've made it cry?" " Throttle the kid !" rejoined Blueskin, fiercely. " If you don't stop its squalling, I will. I hate children. And, if I'd my own way, I'd drown "em all like a litter o' puppies. 1 ' Well knowing the savage temper of the person she had to deal with, and how likely he was to put his threat into execution, Mrs. Sheppard did not dare to return any answer; but, disengaging herself from his embrace, endeavoured meekly to comply with his request. " And now, widow," continued the ruffian, setting down the candle, and applying his lips to the bottle neck as he flung his heavy frame upon a bench, " I've a piece o' good news for you." " Good news will be news to me. What is it ?" u Guess," rejoined Blueskin, attempting to throw a gallant expression into his forbidding countenance. Mrs. Sheppard trembled violently ; and, though she understood his meaning too well, she answered, — " I can't guess." " Well, then," returned the ruffian, " to put you out of suspense, as the topsman remarked to poor Tom Sheppard afore he turned him off, I'm come to make you an honourable proposal of marriage. You Avon' t refuse me, I'm sure; so no more need be said about the matter. To-morrow we'll go to the Fleet and get spliced Don't shake so. What I said about your brat was all stuff. I didn't mean it. It's my way when I'm ruffled. I shall take to him as nat'ral as if he were my own flesh and blood afore long. — I'll give him the edication of a prig — teach him the use of his forks betimes — and make him, in the end, as clever a cracksman as his father. 1 ' "Never!" shrieked Mrs. Sheppard ; "never! never!" "Halloa! what's this?" demanded Blueskin, springing to his feet. " Do you mean to say that, if I support your kid, I sha'n't bring him up how I please — eh ? " " Don't question me, but leave me," replied the widow wildly '* you had better." " Leave you !" echoed the ruffian, with a contemptuous laugh ; " — not just yet." " I am not unprotected," rejoined the poor woman ; " there's some one at the window. Help ! help !" But her cries were unheeded. And Blueskin, who, for a mo- ment, had looked round distrustfully, concluding it was a feint, now laughed louder than ever. " It won't do, widow," said he, drawing near her, while she shrank from his approach, " so you may spare your breath. Come, come, be reasonable, and listen to me. Your kid has already brought me good-luck, and may bring me still more if his edica- THE DENUNCIATION. 35 tion's attended to. This purse," he added, chinking it in the air, "and this ring, were given me for him just now by the lady, who made a false step on leaving your house. If I'd been in the way, instead of Jonathan Wild, that accident wouldn't have happened." As he said this, a slight noise was heard without. " What's that ? " ejaculated the ruffian, glancing uneasily towards the window. "Who's there? — Pshaw! it's only the wind." " It's Jonathan Wild," returned the widow, endeavouring to alarm him. "1 told you I was not unprotected." " He protect you /" retorted Blueskin, maliciously; " you haven't a worse enemy on the face of the earth than Jonathan Wild. If you'd read your husband's dying speech, you'd know that he laid his death at Jonathan's door — and with reason too, as I can testify." " Man ! " screamed Mrs. Sheppard, with a vehemence thA> shook even the hardened wretch beside her, " begone, and tempt, me not." " What should I tempt you to ? " asked Blueskin, in surprise. "To — to — no matter what, 1 ' returned the widow, distractedly. « Go— go ! " "I see what you mean," rejoined Blueskin, tossing a large case-knife, which he took from his pocket, in the air, and catch- ing it dexterously by the haft as it fell: "you owe Jonathan a grudge ; — so do I. He hanged your first husband. Just speak: the word," he added, drawing the knife significantly across hia throat, " and I'll put it out of his power to do the same by your second. But, d — n him! let's talk of something more agreeable. Look at this ring ; — it's a diamond, and worth a mint o' money. It shall be your wedding ring. Look at it, I say. The lady's name's engraved inside, but so small I can scarcely read it. A-l-i-v-a . . . Aliva . . . T-ii-E-x . . . Trencher . . . that's it. Aliva Trencher." " Aliva Trenchard ! " exclaimed Mrs. Sheppard, hastily ; " b that the name ? " " Ay, ay, now I look again, it is Trenchard. How came yon to know it? Have you heard the name before? " " I think I have — long, long ago, when I was a child," replied Mrs. Sheppard, passing her hand across her brow; "but my me- mory is gone — quite gone. Where can 1 have heard it !" " Devil knows ! " rejoined Blueskin. " Let it pass. The ring's yours, and you're mine. Here, put it on your finger." Mrs Sheppard snatched back her hand from his grasp, and ex- erted all her force to repel his advances. " Set down the kid," roared Blueskin, savagely. "Mercy I" screamed Mrs. Sheppard, struggling to escape, aihl holding the infant at arm's length ; " have mercy on this helpless innocent !" 36 JACK SHEPPARD. And the child, alarmed by the strife, added its feeble cries to its mother's shrieks. " Set it down, I tell you," thundered Blueskin, " or I shall do it a mischief." "Never!" cried Mrs. Sheppard. Uttering a terrible imprecation, Blueskin placed the knife be- tween his teeth, and endeavoured to seize the poor woman by the throat. In the struggle her cap fell off. The ruffian caught hold of her hair, and held her fast. The chamber rang with her shrieks. But her cries, instead of moving her assailant's compassion, only added to his fury. Planting his knee against her side, he pulled her towards him with one hand, while with the other he sought his knife. The child was now within reach ; and in another moment he would have executed his deadly purpose, if an arm from behind had not felled him to the ground. When Airs. Sheppard, who had been stricken down by the blow that prostrated her assailant, looked up, she perceived Jonathan Wild kneeling beside the bodv of Blueskin. He was holding the ring to the light, and narrowly examining the inscription. " Trenchard," he muttered ; " Aliva Trenchard — they were right, then, as to the name. Well, if she survives the accident — as the blood, who styles himself Sir Cecil, fancies she may do — this ring will make my fortune by leading to the discovery of the chief parties concerned in this strange affair. " "Is the poor lady alive?" asked Airs. Sheppard, eagerly. "'Sblood!" exclaimed Jonathan, hastily thrusting the ring into his vest, and taking up a heavy horseman's pistol with which he had felled Blueskin, — " I thought you'd been senseless." "Is she alive?" repeated the widow. " What's that to you ? " demanded Jonathan, gruffly. " Oh, nothing — nothing," returned Mrs. Sheppard. " But pray tell me if her husband has escaped ? " "Her husband!" echoed Jonathan scornfully. "A husband has little to fear from his wife's kinsfolk. Her lover, Darrell, has embarked upon the Thames, where, if he's not capsized by the squall (for it's blowing like the devil), he stands a good chance of getting his throat cut by his pursuers — ha ! ha ! 1 tracked 'em to the banks of the river, and should have followed to see it out, if the watermen hadn't refused to take me. However, as things have turned up, it's fortunate that I came back." "It is, indeed," replied Mrs. Sheppard; "most fortunate for me." " For you ! " exclaimed Jonathan, " don't flatter yourself that I'm thinking of you. Blueskin might have butchered you and your brat before I'd have lifted a finger to prevent him, if it hadn't suited my purposes to do so, and he hadn't incurred my displeasure. I never forgive an injury. Your husband could have told you that." TIIE STORM. 37 "How had be offended you?" inquired the widow. " I'll tell you," answered Jonathan, sternly. " He thwarted my schemes twice. The first time, I overlooked the offence ; but the second time, when I bad planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night — Wood the car- penter of Wych Street — he betrayed me. I told him I would bring him to the gallows, and I was as good, as my word." " You were so," replied Mrs. Sheppard ; " and for that wicked deed you will one day be brought to the gallows yourself." " Not before I have conducted your child thither," retorted Jonathan, with a withering look. "Ah !" ejaculated Mrs. Sheppard, paralysed by the threat. " If that sickly brat lives to be a man," continued Jonathan, rising, " I'll hang him upon the same tree as his father." " Pity !" shrieked the widow. " I'll be his evil genius ! " vociferated Jonathan, who seemed to enjoy her torture. " Begone, wretch !" cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts ; " or I will drive you hence with my curses." " Curse on, and welcome," jeered Wild. Mrs. Sheppard raised her hand, and the malediction trembled upon her tongue. But ere the words could find utterance, her maternal tenderness overcame her indignation ; and, sinking Upon her knees, she extended her arms over her child. rt A mother's prayers — a mother's blessing," she cried, with the fervour almost of inspiration, " will avail against a fiend's malice." " We shall sec," rejoined Jonathan, turning carelessly upon his heel. And, as he quitted the room, the poor widow fell with her face upon the floor. CHAPTER VI.— THE STORM. As soon as he was liberated by his persecutors, Mr. Wood set off at full speed from the Mint, and hurrying, he scarce knew whither (for there was such a continual buzzing in his ears and dancing in his eyes, as almost to take away the power of reflec- tion), he held on at a brisk pace tili his strength completely failed him. On regaining his breath, he began to consider whither chance had led him ; and, rubbing his eyes to clear his sight, he perceived a sombre pile, with a lofty tower and broad j: of, immediately in front of him. This structure at once satis led him as to where he stood. He knew it to be St. Savioir's 88 JACK SIIEPPAKD. Church. As he looked up at the massive tDwer, the clock tolled forth the hour of midnight. The solemn strokes were immediate- ly answered bv a multitude of chimes, sounding across the T'mmes, amongst which the deep note of Saint Paul's was plainly distinguishable. A feeling of inexplicable awe crept over the carpenter as the sounds died away. He trembled, not from any superstitious dread, but from an undefined sense of approach- in^ danger. The peculiar appearance of the sky was not without some influence in awakening these terrors. Over one of the pinnacles of the tower a speck of pallid light marked the position of the moon, then newly "born and newly risen. It was still profoundly dark ; but the wind, which had begun to blow with some violence, chased the clouds rapidly across the heavens, and dispersed the vapours hanging nearer the earth. Sometimes the moon was totally eclipsed ; at others, it shed a wan and ghastly glimmer over the masses rolling in the firmament. Not a star could be discerned, but, in their stead, streaks of lurid radiance, whence proceeding it was impossible to determine, shot ever and anon athwart the dusky vault, and added to the ominous and \hreatening appearance of the night. Alarmed by these prognostications of a storm, and feeling too much exhausted from his late severe treatment to proceed further on foot, Wood endeavoured to find a tavern Avhere he might warm and otherwise refresh himself. With this view he struck off into a narrow street on the left, and soon entered a small alehouse, over the door of which hung the sign of the " Welsh Trumpeter." " Let me have a glass of brandy," said he, addressing the host. " Too late, master," replied the landlord of the Trumpeter, in a surly tone, lor he did not much like the appearance of his customer ; ''just shut up shop." " Zounds ! David Pugh, don't you know your old friend and countryman V exclaimed the carpenter. " Ah ! Owen Wood, is it you?" cried David in astonishment. fl What the devil makes you out so late ? And what has happen- ed to you, man, eh ? — you seem in a queer plight." " Give me the brandy, and I'll tell you," replied Wood. " Here, wife — hostess — fetch me that bottle from the second shelf in the corner cupboard. — There, Mr. Wood," cried David, pouring out a glass of the spirit, and offering it to the carpenter, " that'll warm the cockles of your heart. Don't be afraid, man — off with it. It's right Nantz. I keep it for my own drinking," he added in a lower tone. Air. Wood having disposed of the brandy, and pronounced himself much better, hurried close to the fireside, and in- formed his friend in a few words of the inhospitable treatment he had experienced from the gentlemen of the Mint ; whereupon Mr. Pugh, who, as well as the carpenter, was a descendant of THE STORM. 30 Cadwallader, waxed extremely wroth ; gave utterance to a nutnbe* of fierce-sounding imprecations in the Welsh tongue ; and way just beginning to express the greatest anxiety to catch some o^ the rascals at the Trumpeter, when Mr. Wood cut him short by stating his intention of ci'ossing the river as soon as possible, irt order to avoid the storm. " A storm !" exclaimed the landlord. rt Gadzooks ! I thought, something was coming on ; for when I looked at the weather- glass an hour ago, it had sunk lower than I ever remember it." " We shall have a durty night on it, to a sartinty, landlord," observed an old one-eyed sailor, who sat smoking his pipe by the fireside. " The glass never sinks in that way, d'ye see, without a hurricane follerin'. I've knowed it often do so in the West Injees. Moreover, a couple o' porpusses came up with the tide this mornin', and ha' bin flounderm" 1 about i' the Thames abuv Lunnun Bridge all day long ; and them say-monsters, you know, always proves sure forerunners of a gale."" " Then the sooner I'm off the better," cried Wood ; " what s to pay, David?" u Don't affront me, Owen, by asking such a question," returned the landlord; "hadn't you better stop and finish the bottle?" " Not a drop more," replied W ood. " Enough's as good as a feast. Good-night!" " Well, if you won't be persuaded, and must have a boat, Owen," observed the landlord, "there's a waterman asleep on that bench will help you to as tidy a craft as any on the Thames. Halloa, Ben!" cried he, shaking a broad-backed fellow, equipped in a short-skirted doublet, and having a badge upon his arm, — " scullers wanted." " Halloa ! my hearty !" cried Ben, starting to his feet. " This gentleman wants a pair of oars," said the landlord. " Where to, master?" asked Ben, touching his woollen cap. 11 Arundel Stairs," replied Wood, " the nearest point to Wych Street." " Come along, master," said the waterman. " Hark'ce, Ben," said the old sailor, knocking the ashes from his pipe upon the hob ; " you may try, but dash my timbers if you'll ever cross the Thames to-night." "And why not, old saltwater?" inquired Ben, turning a quid in his mouth. " 'Cos there's a gale a-getting up as '11 perwent you, young freshwater, 1 ' replied the tar. " It must look sharp then, or I shall give it the slip,"' laughed Ben: k " the gale never yet blowed as could perwent my crossing the Thames. The weather's been foul enough for the last fort- night, but I've never turned my back upon it." "May be not," replied the old sailor, drily ; " but you'll find it too stiff for you to-night, anyhow. Howsomde\er, if you should 40 JACK SHlSPPABD. reach t'other side, take an old feller's advice, and don't be fool- hardy enough to venter back again." " I tell 'ee what, saltwater," said Ben, " I'll lay you my fare — and that '11 be two shillin' — I'm back in an hour." " Done !" cried the old sailor. " But vere '11 be the use o' vin- nin' ? you von't live to pay me." " Never fear," replied Ben, gravely ; " dead or alive I'll pay you, if I lose. There's my thumb upon it. Come along, master." " I tell 'ee what, landlord," observed the old sailor, quietly re- plenishing his pipe from a huge pewter tobacco-box, as the water- man and Wood quitted the house, "you've said good-by to vour friend." " Odd's me ! do you think so ?" cried the host of the Trumpeter. " I'll run and bring him back. He's a Welshman, and 1 wouldn't for a trifle that any accident befell him." u Never mind," said the old sailor, taking up a piece of blazing coal with the tongs, and applying it to his pipe; "let 'em try. They'll be back soon enough — or not at all." Mr. Wood and the waterman, meanwhile, proceeded in the di- rection of St. Saviour's stairs. Casting a hasty glance at the old and ruinous prison belonging to the liberty of the Bishop of Win- chester (whose palace formerly adjoined the river), called the Clink, which gave its name to the street, along which he walked, and noticing, with some uneasiness, the melancholy manner in which the wind whistled through its barred casements, the car- penter followed his companion down an opening to the right, and presently arrived at the water-side. Moored to the steps, several wherries were dancing in the rush- ing current, as if impatient of restraint. Into one of these the waterman jumped, and, having assisted Mr. Wood to a seat within it, immediately pushed from land. Ben had scarcely adjusted his Dare, when the gleam of a lantern was seen moving towards the bank. A shout was heard at a little distance, and, the next mo- ment, a person rushed with breathless haste to the stair-head. "Boat there!" cried a voice, which Mr, Wood fancied he re- cognised. " You'll find a waterman asleep under his tilt in one of them ere craft, if you look about, sir," replied Ben, backing water as he epoke. " Can't you take me with you ?" urged the voice ; "I'll make it well worth your while. I've a child here whom I wish to con- vey across the water without loss of time." " A child !" thought Wood ; "it must be the fugitive Darrell. " Hold hard," cried he, addressing the waterman ; " I'll give the gentleman a, lift." " Unpossible, master," rejoined Ben; "the tide's running down like a mill-sluice, and the wind's right in our teeth. Old saltwater was right. We shall have a regular squall afore we gets across. (Lyiit Gtiu>cSVi ovUCj THE STORM. 41 D'ye hear how the wanes creaks on old Winchester House ? We shall have a touch on it ourselves presently. But I shall lose my wager if I stay a moment longer — so here goes."' Upon which he plunged his oars deeply into the stream, and the bark shot from the strand. Mr. Wood's anxiety respecting the fugitive was speedily relieved by hearing another waterman busy himself in preparation for starting ; and, shortly after, the dip of a second pair of oars sound- ed upon the river. 11 Curse me, if I don't think all the world means to cross the Thames this fine night," observed Ben. " One 'd think it rained fares, as well as blowed great guns. Why, there's another party on the stair-head inquiring arter scullers ; and, by the mass ! they appear in a greater hurry than any on us." His attention being thus drawn to the bank, the carpenter be- held three figures, one of whom bore a torch, leap into a wherry of a larger size than the others, which immediately put off from shore. Manned by a couple of watermen, who rowed with great SAviftness, this wherry dashed through the current in the track of the fugitive, of whom it Avas evidently in pursuit, and upon whom it perceptibly gained. Mr. Wood strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of the flying skiff. But he could only discern a black and shapeless mass, floating upon the water at a little distance, which, to his bewildered fancy, appeared absolutely standing still. To the practised eye of the waterman matters wore a very different air. He perceived clearly enough, that the chase was moving- quickly ; and he was also aware, from the increased rapidity with which the oars were urged, that every exertion was made on board to get out of the reach of her pursuers. At one moment, it seemed as if the flying bark was about to put to shore. But this plan (probably from its danger) was instantly abandoned ; not, however, before her momentary hesitation had been taken advan- tage of by her pursuers, who, redoubling their efforts at this junc- ture, materially lessened the distance between them. Ben watched these manoeuvres with great interest, and strained every sinew in his frame to keep ahead of the other boats. " Them's catchpoles, I s'pose, sir, arter the gentleman with a writ?" he observed. " Something worse, I fear," Wood replied. u Why, you don't think as how they're crimps, do you ?" Ben inquired. " I don't know what I think," Wood answered sulkily ; and he bent his eyes upon the water as if he wished to avert his atten- tion forcibly from the scene. There is something that inspires a feeling of inexpressible melancholy in sailing on a dark night upon the Thames. The Bounds that reach the ear, and the objects that meet the eye, are all calculated to awaken a train of sad and serious contemplation. 42 JACK SnEPPARD. The ripple of the water against the boat, as its keel cleaves through the stream — the darkling current hurrying by — the in- distinctly seen craft, of all forms and all sizes, hovering around, and making tin ir way in ghost-like silence, or warning each other of their approach by cries, that, heard from afar, haA'e something doleful in their note — the solemn shadows cast by the bridges — the deeper gloom of the echoing arches — the lights glimmering from the banks — the red reflection thrown upon the waves by a lire kindled on some stationary barge — the tall and fantastic shapes of the houses as discerned through the obscurity; these, and other sights and sounds of the same character, give a sombre colour to the thoughts of one who may choose to indulge in medi- tation at such a time and in such a place. But it was otherwise with the carpenter. This was no night for the indulgence of dreamy musing. It was a night of storm and terror, which promised each moment to become more stormy and more terrible. Not a bark could be discerned on the river, except those already mentioned. The darkness was almost pal- pable ; and the wind which, hitherto, had been blowing in gusts, was suddenly lulled. It was a dead calm. But this calm was more awful than the previous roaring of the blast. Amid this portentous hush, the report of a pistol reached the carpenter's ears ; and, raising his head at the sound, he beheld a sight which filled him with fresh apprehensions. By the light of a torch borne at the stern of the hostile wherry, he saw that the pursuers had approached within a short distance of the object of their quest. The shot had taken effect upon the waterman who rowed the chase. He had abandoned his oars, and the boat was drifting with the stream towards the enemy. Escape was now impossible. Darrell stood erect in the bark, with his drawn sword in hand, prepai'ed to repel the attack of his assailants, who, in their turn, seemed to await with impatience the moment which should deliver him into their power. They had not to tarry long. In another instant the collision took place. The watermen who manned the larger wherry im- mediately shipped their oars grappled with the drifting skiff, and held it fast. Wood, then, beheld two persons, one of whom he recognised as Rowland, spring on board the chase. A fierce struggle ensued. There was a shrill cry, instantly succeeded by a deep splash. " Put about, waterman, for God's sake I" cried Wood, whose humanity got the better of every personal consideration ; " some one is overboard. Give way, and let us render what assistance we can to the poor wretch." " It's all over with him by this time, master," replied Ben, turn- ing the head of his boat, and rowing swiftly towards the scene of strife ; u but, d — n him, he was the chap as hit poor Bill Thom- son just now, and I don't much care if he should be food for fishes." tiie stokm. 43 As Ben spoke, they drew near the opposing parties. The con- test was now carried on between Rowland and Darrell. The lat- ter had delivered himself from one of his assailants, the attendant, Davies. Hurled over the sides of the skiff, the ruffian speedily- found a watery grave. It A\as a spring-tide at half ebb ; and the current, which was running fast and furiously, bore him instantly away. While the strife raged between the principals, the water- men in the larger wherry were occupied in stemming the force of the torrent, and endeavouring to keep the boats, they had lashed together, stationary. Owing to this circumstance, Mr. Wood's boat, impelled alike by oar and tide, shot past the mark at which it aimed ; and, before it could be again brought about, the struggle had terminated. For a lew minutes Darrell seemed to have the advantage in the conflict. Neither combatant could use his 6word ; and in strength the fugitive was evidently superior to his antagonist. The boat rocked violently with the struggle. Had it not been lashed to the adjoining wherry, it must have been up- set, and have precipitated the opponents into the water. Rowland felt himself sinking beneath the powerful grasp of his enemy. He called to the other attendant who held the torch. Under- standing the appeal, the man snatched his master's sword from his grasp, and passed it through Darrell'8 body. The next moment a heavy plunge told that the fugitive had been consigned to the waves. Darrell, however, rose again instantly ; and, though mortally wounded, made a desperate effort to regain the boat. " My child !" he groaned, faintly. u Well reminded, - ' answered Rowland, who had witnessed his struggles with a smile of gratified vengeance ; " I had forgotten the accursed imp in this confusion. Take* it," he cried, lifting the babe from the bottom of the boat, and flinging it towards its unfortunate father. The child fell within a short distance of Darrell, who, hearing the splash, struck out in that direction, and caught 5.t before it sank. At this juncture, the sound of oars reached his ears, and he perceived Mr. Wood's boat bearing up towards him " Here he is, waterman," exclaimed the benevolent carpenter " 1 see him ; row for your life!" " That's the way to miss him, master, - ' replied Ben, coolly " We must keep still. The tide '11 bring him to us fast enough." Ben judged correctly. Borne along by the current, Darrell was instantly at the boat's side. " Seize this oar," vociferated the waterman. " First take the child," cried Darrell, holding up the infant, and clinging to the oar with a dying effort. " Give it me," returned the carpenter ; all's safe. Kow, lend me your own hand." " My strength fails me,* gasped the fugitive " I cannot 44 jack snF.rrARD. climb the boat. Take my child to — it is — oh Goa -. — I am sinking — take it— take it V " Where?" shouted Wood. Darrell attempted to reply. But he could only utter an inar- ticulate exclamation. The next moment his grasp relaxed, and he sank to rise no more. Kowland, meantime, alarmed by the voices, snatched a torch from his attendant, and, holding it over the side of the wherry, witnessed the incident just described. " Confusion ! " cried he ; " there is another boat in our wake, they have rescued the child. Loose the wherry, and stand to your oars — quick — quick!" These commands were promptly obeyed. The boat was set fr°e, and the men resumed their seats. Rowland's purposes were, however, defeated in a manner as unexpected as appalling. During the foregoing occurrences a dead calm prevailed. But as Kowland sprang to the helm, and gave the signal for pursuit a roar like a volley of ordnance Avas heard aloft, and the wind again burst its bondage. A moment befcre, the surface of the stream was black as ink. It was now whitening hissing, and seething like an enormous caldron. The blast once more swept over the agitated river : whirled off the sheets of foam, scattered them far and wide in rain-drops, and left the raging torrent blacker than before. The gale had become a hurricane : that hurricane was the most terrible that ever laid waste our city. Destruction every where marked its course. Steeples toppled, and towers reeled beneath its fury. Trees were torn up by the roots ; many houses were levelled to the ground ; others were unroofed ; the leads on the churches were ripped off, and " shri- velled up like scrolls of parchment." Nothing on land or water was spared by the remorseless gale. Most of the vessels lying in the river were driven from their moorings, dashed tumultuously against each other, or blown ashore. All was darkness, horror, confusion, ruin. Men fled from their tottering habitations, and returned to them scared by greater dangers. The end of the world seemed at hand. At this time of universal havoc and despair — when all London quaked at the voice of the storm — the carpenter, who was exposed to its utmost fury, fared better than might have been anticipated. The boat in which he rode was not overset. Fortunately, her course had been shifted immediately after the rescue of the child ; and, in consequence of this movement, she received the first shock of the hurricane, which blew from the south-west, upon her stern. Her head dipped deeply into the current, and she narrowly es- caped being swamped. Righting, however, instantly afterwards, she scudded with the greatest rapidity over the boiling waves, to whose mercy she was now entirely abandoned. On this fresh out- burst of the storm, Wood threw himself instinctively into the THE STORM. 45 bottom of the boat, and, clasping the little orphan to his breast) endeavoured to prepare himself to meet his fate. While he was thus occupied, he felt a rough grasp upon his arm, and presently afterwards Ben's lips approached close to his ear. The waterman sheltered his mouth with his hand while he spoke, or his voice would have been carried away by the violence of the blast. "It's all up, master," groaned Ben, "nothhv short of a merracle can save us. The boat's sure to run foul o' the bridge ; and if she 'scapes stavin' above, she'll be swamped to a sartinty below. There '11 be a fall of above twelve foot o' water, and think o' that on a night as 'ud blow a whole fleet to the devil." Mr. Wood did think of it, and groaned aloud. " Heaven help us!" he exclaimed ; " we were mad to neglect the old sailor's advice." "That's what troubles me," rejoined Ben. "I tell 'ee what, master, if you're more fortinate nor I am, and get ashore, give old saltwater your fare. I pledged my thumb that, dead or alive, I'd pay the wager if I lost ; and I should like to be as good as my word." " I will— I will," replied Wood hastily. " Was that thunder ? " he faltered, as a terrible clap was heard overhead. u No ; it's only a fresh gale," Ben returned : ■ ' hark ! now it comes." "Lord have mercy upon us, miserable sinners!" ejaculated Wood, as a fearful gust dashed the water over the side of the boat, deluging him with spray. The hurricane had now reached its climax. The blast shrieked, as if exulting in its wrathful mission. Stunning and continuous, the din seemed almost to take away the power of hearing. He who had faced the gale, would have been instantly stifled. Pier- cing through every crevice in the clothes, it, in some cases, tore them from the wearer's limbs, or from his grasp. It penetrated the skin ; benumbed the flesh ; paralysed the faculties. The in- tense darkness added to the terror of the storm. The destroying angel hurried by, shrouded in his gloomiest apparel. None saw, though all felt his presence, and heard the thunder of his voice. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. Ten thousand steeds appeared to be trampling aloft, charged with the work of devastation. Awful shapes seemed to s flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury. The actual danger was lost sight of in these wild ap- prehensions; and many timorous beings were scared beyond reason's verge by the excess of their fears. This had wellnigh been the case with the carpenter. He was roused from the stupor of despair into which he had sunk by the voice of Ben, who roared in his ear, " The bridge ! — the bridge 1" 46 JACK SIIEPrAKD. CHAPTER VII.— OLD LONDON BRIDGE. London*, at the period of this history, boasted only a single bridge. But that bridge was more remarkable than any the me- tropolis now possesses. Covered with houses from one end to the other, this reverend and picturesque structure presented the appearance of a street across the Thames. It was as if Grace- church Street, with all its shops, its magazines, and ceaseless throng of passengers, were stretched from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore. The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true ; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air, was the same. Then the bridge had arched gateways, bristling with spikes, and garnished (as all ancient gate- ways ought to be) with the heads of traitors. In olden days it boasted a chapel, dedicated to St. Thomas ; beneath which "there was a crypt curiously constructed amid the arches, where "waa sepultured Peter, the Chaplain of Colechurch, who began the Stone Bridge at London :" and it still boasted an edifice (though now in rather a tumble-down condition) which had once vied with a palace, — we mean Nonesuch House. The other buildings stood close together in rows ; and so valuable was every inch of room accounted, that in many cases cellars, and even habitable apart- ments, were constructed in the solid masonry of the piers. Old London Bridge (the grandsire of the present erection) was supported on nineteen arches, each of which "Would a Rialto make for depth and height ! The arches stood upon enormous piers ; the piers on starlings, or jetties, built far out into the river to break the force of the tide. Roused by Ben's warning, the carpenter looked up, and could just perceive the dusky outline of the bridge, looming through the darkness, and rendered indistinctly visible by the many lights that twinkled from the windows of the lofty houses. As he gazed at these lights, they suddenly seemed to disappear, and a tremendous shock was felt throughout the frame of the boat. Wood started to his feet. He found that the skiff had been dashed against one of the buttresses of the bridge. "Jump !" cried Ben, in a voice of thunder. Wood obeyed. His fears supplied him with unwonted vigour. Though the starling was more than two feet above the level of the water, he alighted with his little charge — which he had never for an instant quitted — in safety upon it. Poor Ben was not so fortunate. Just as he was preparing to follow, the wherry con- taining Rowland and his men, which had drifted in their wake, was dashed against his boat. The violence of the collision nearly threw him backwards, and caused him to swerve as he sprang. His foot touched the rounded edge of the starling, and glanced off, precipitating him into the water. As he fell, he caught at OLD LUSUU>' KKIDUE. 47 the projecting masonry. But the stone was slippery; and the tide, which here began to feel the influence of the fall, was run- ning with frightful velocity. Pie could not make good his hold. But, uttering a loud cry, lie was swept away by the headlong torrent. Mr. Wood heard the cry. But his own situation was too perilous to admit of his rendering any assistance to the ill-fated waterman. He fancied, indeed, that he beheld a figure spring upon the starling at the moment when the boats came in contact;, but, as he could perceive no one near him, he concluded he must have been mistaken. In order to make Mr. Wood's present position and subsequent proceedings fully intelligible, it may be necessary to give some notion of the shape and structure of the platform on which he had taken refuge. It has been said, that the pier of each arch, or lock of Old London Bridge, was defended from trie force of the tide by a huge projecting spur called a starling. These starlings varied in width, according to the bulk of the pier they surrounded. But they were all pretty nearly of the same length, and built somewhat after the model of a boat, having extremities as sharp and pointed as the keel of a canoe. Cased and ribbed with stone, and braced with horizontal beams of timber, the piles, which formed the foundation of these jetties, had resisted the strong encroachments of the current for centuries. Some of them are now buried at the bottom of the Thames. The starling, on which the carpenter stood, was the fourth from thw Surrey shore. It might be three yards in width, and a few more in length ; but it was covered with ooze and slime, and the waves continually broke over it, The transverse spars before mentioned were as slippery as ice ; and the hollows between them were filled ankle-deep with water. The cai-penter threw himself flat upon the starling to avoid the fury of the wind. But in this posture he fared worse than ever. If he ran less risk of being blown over, he stood a much greater chance of being washed off, or stifled. As he lay on his back, he fancied himself gradually slipping off the platform. Springing to his feet in an ecstasy of terror, he stumbled, and had wellnigh realized his worst apprehensions. lie, next, tried to clamber up the flying buttresses and soffits of the pier, in the hope of reach- ing some of the windows and other apertures with which, as a man-of-war is studded with port-holes, the sides of the bridge were pierced. But this wild scheme was speedily abandoned ; and, nerved by despair, the carpenter resolved to hazard an attempt, from the execution, almost from the contemplation, of which he had hitherto shrunk. This was to pass under the arch, along the narrow ledge of the starling, and, it possible, attain the eastern platform, where, protected by the bridge, he would suffer leas from the excessive violence of the smoothed down her scarf, threw a soft expression into her features, and led the way into the next room, whither she was followed by her daughter and Thames Darrell. CHAPTER III.— THE JACOBITE. Mr. William Kneebone was a woollen-draper of " credit and renown," whose place of business was held at the sign of the Angel (for in those days every shop had its sign), opposite Saint Clement's church in the Strand. A native of Manchester, ho was the son of Kenclm Kneebone, a stanch Catholic, and a sergeant of dragoons, who lost his legs and his life while fighting for James the Second at the battle of the Boyne, and who had little to bequeath his son except his laurels and his loyalty to the house of Stuart. The gallant woollen-draper was now in his thirty-sixth year, lie had a handsome, jolly-looking face; stood six feet two in his stockings, and measured more than a cloth-yard shaft across the shoulders — athletic proportions derived from his father the dra- goon. And, if it had not been for a taste for plotting, which was continually getting him into scrapes, he might have been accounted a respectable member of society. Of late, however, his plotting had assumed a more dark and dangerous complexion. The times were such that, with the opinions he entertained, he could not remain idle. The spirit of disaffection was busy throughout the kingdom. It was on the eve of that memorable rebellion which broke forth, two months later, in Scotland. Since the accession of George the First to the throne in the preceding year, every effort had been made by the partisans of the Stuarts to shake the credit of the existing government, and to gain supporters to their cause. Disappointed in their hopes of the restoration of the fallen dynasty after the death of Anne, the adherents of the Chevalier de Saint George endeavoured, by sowing the seeds of dissension far and wide, to produce a general insurrection in his favour. No means were neglected to accomplish this end. Agents were dispersed in all directions — offers the most tempting held out to induce the wavering to join the Chevalier's standard. Plots were hatched 6$ JACK SIIEPrARD. in the provinces, where many of the old .and wealthy Catholic families resided, whose zoal for the martyr of their religion (as the Chevalier was esteemed), sharpened by the persecutions they themselves endured, rendered them hearty and efficient allies. Arms, horses, and accoutrements were secretly purchased and distributed: and it is not improbable that, if the unfortunate prince, in whose behalf these exertions were made, and who was not deficient in courage, as he proved at the battle of Malplaquet, had boldly placed himself at the head of his party at an earlier period, he might have regained the crown of his ancestors. But the indecision, which had been fatal to his race, was fatal to him lie delayed the blow till the fortunate conjuncture was past. And when, at length, it was struck, he wanted energy to pursue his advantages. But we must not anticipate the course of events. At the pre- cise period of this history, the Jacobite party was full of hope and confidence. Louis the Fourteenth yet lived, and expectations were, therefore, indulged of assistance from France. The dis- grace of the leaders of the late Tory administration had strength- ened, rather than injured, their cause. Mobs were gathered together on the slightest possible pretext; and these tumultuous assemblages, while committing the most outrageous excesses, loudly proclaimed their hatred to the house of Hanover, and their determination to cut off the Protestant succession. The pro- ceedings of this faction were narrowly watched by a vigilant and sagacious administration. The government was not deceived (indeed, every opportunity was sought by the Jacobites of parad- ing their numbers) as to the force of its enemies; and precaution- ary measures were taken to defeat their designs. On the very day of which we write, namely, the 10th of June 1715, Boling- broke and Oxford were impeached of high treason. The Com- mittee of Secrecy — that English Council of Ten — were sitting, with WaJpole at their head; and the most extraordinary dis- coveries were reported to be made. On the same day, moreover, which, by a curious coincidence, was the birthday of the Chevalier de Saint George, mobs were collected together in the streets, and the health of that prince was publicly drunk under the title of James the Third ; while, in many country towns, the bells were , rung, and rejoicings held, as if for a reigning monarch : — the cry of the populace almost universally being, "No King George, but a Stuart ! " The adherents of the Chevalier de Saint George, we have said, ivere lavish in promises to their proselytes. Posts were offered to all who chose to accept them. Blank commissions, signed by the prince, to be filled up by the name of the person who could raise a troop for his service, were liberally bestowed. Amongst others, Mr. Kncebone, whose interest was not inconsiderable with the leaders of his faction, obtained an appointment as captain MR. KNEEBONE AND nrs FRIENDS. o9 in a regiment of infantry, on the conditions above specified. With a view to raise recruits for his corps, the warlike woollen- draper started for Lancashire, under the colour of a journey on business. He was pretty successful in Manchester — a town which may be said to have been the headquarters of the disaffect- ed. On his return to London, he found that applications had been made from a somewhat doubtful quarter by two individuals, for the posts of subordinate officers in his troop. Mr. Kneebone, or, as he would have preferred being styled, Captain Kneebone, was not perfectly satisfied w!t'\ the recommendations forwarded by the applicants. But this was not a season in which to be needlessly scrupulous. lie resolved to judge for himself. Ac- cordingly, he was introduced to the two military aspirants at the Cross Shovels in the Mint, by our old acquaintance, Baptist Kettleby. The Master of the Mint, with whom the Jacobite captain had often had transactions before, vouched for their being men of honour and loyalty ; and Kneebone was so well satisfied with his representations, that he at once closed the matter by administering to the applicants the oath of allegiance and fidelity to King James the Third, and several other oaths besides, all of which those gentlemen took with as little hesitation as the sum of money, afterwards tendered, to make the compact binding. The party, then, sat down to a bowl of punch; ami, at its con- clusion, Captain Kneebone regretted that an engagement to spend the evening with Mrs. Wood, would preclude the possibility of his remaining with his new friends as long as his inclinations prompted. At this piece of information, the two subordinate officers were observed to exchange glances; and, after a little agreeable raillery on their captain's gallantry, they begged per- mission to accompany him in his visit. Kneebone, who had drained his glass to the restoration of the house of Stuart, and the downfall of the house of Hanover, more frequently than was consistent with prudence, consented ; and the trio set out for Wych Street, where they arrived in the jolliest humour possible. CHAPTER IV.— Mil. KNEEBONE AND HIS FRIENDS. Mrs. Wood was scarcely seated before Mr. Kneebone made his appearance. To her great surprise and mortification he was not alone; but brought with him a couple of friends, whom he begged to introduce as Mr. Jeremiah Jackson, and Mr. Solomon Smith, chapmen (or what in modern vulgar parlance would be termed bagmen), travelling to procure orders for the house of an eminent cloth manufacturer in Manchester. Neither the manners, the looks, nor the attire of these gentlemen, prepossessed Mrs. Wood in their favour. Accordingly, on their presentation, Mr. Jeremiah 70 JACK SIIEPrARD. Jackson and Mr. Solomon Smith received something very like a rebuff. Luckily, they were not easily discomposed. Two persons possessing a more comfortable stock of assurance could not be readily found. Imitating the example of Mr. Kneebone, who did not appear in the slightest degree disconcerted by his cool recep- tion, each sank carelessly into a chair, and made himself at home in a moment. Both had very singular faces ; very odd wigs, very much pulled over their brows; and very large cravats, very much raised above their chins. Besides this, each had a large black pal eh over his right eye, and a very queer twist at the left side of his mouth, so that, if their object had been disguise, they could not have adopted better precautions. Mrs. Wood thought them both remarkably plain, but Mr. Smith decidedly the plainest of the two. His complexion was as blue as a sailor's jacket, and though Mr. Jackson had one of the ugliest countenances imagin- able, he had a very fine set of teeth. That was something in his favour. One peculiarity she did not fail to notice. They were both dressed in every respect alike. In fact, Mr. Solomon Smith seemed to be Mr. Jeremiah Jackson's double. He talked in the same style, and pretty nearly in the same language ; laughed in the same manner, and coughed or sneezed at the same time. If Mr. Jackson took an accurate survey of the room with his one eye, Mr. Smith's solitary orb followed in the same direction. When Jeremiah admired the Compasses in the arms of the Car- penters Company over the chimneypiece, or the portraits of the two eminent masters of the rule and plane, William Portington, and John Scott, Esquires, on either side of it, Solomon was lost in wonder. When Mr. Jackson noticed a fine service of old blue china in an open japan closet, Mr. Smith had never seen any thing like it. And finally, when Jeremiah, having bestowed upon Mrs. Wood a very free-and-easy sort of a stare, winked at Mr. Knee- bone, his impertinence was copied to the letter by Solomon. All three, then, burst into an immoderate fit of laughter. Mrs. Wood's astonishment and displeasure momentarily increased. Such free- doms from such people were not to be endured. Her patience was waning fast. Still, in spite of her glances and gestures, Mr. Kneebone made no effort to check the unreasonable merriment of his companions, but rather seemed to encourage it. So Mrs. Wood went on fuming, and the trio went on laughing for some minutes, nobody knew why or wherefore, until the party was increased by Mr. Wood, in his Sunday habiliments and Sunday buckle. Without stopping to inquire into the cause of their mirth, or even to ask the names of his guests, the worthy carpen- ter shook hands with the one-eyed chapmen, slapped Mr. Knee- bone cordially on the shoulder, and began to laugh as heartily as any of them. Mrs. Wood could stand it no longer. u I think you're all bewitched," she cried. MR. KNEEBONE AND HIS FRIENDS. 71 u So we are, ma'am, by your charms," returned Mr. Jackson, gallantly. " Quite captivated, ma'am," added Mr. Smith, placing his hand on his breast. Mr. Kneebone and Mr. Wood laughed louder than ever. " Mr. Wood," said the lady, bridling up, a my request may v perhaps, have some weight with you. I desire, sir, you'll recollect yourself. Mr. Kneebone," she added, with a glance at that gen- tleman, which was meant to speak daggers, " will do as ho pleases." Here the chapmen set up another boisterous peal. "No offence, I hope, my dear Mrs. W.," said Mr. Kneebone in a conciliatory tone. u My friends, Mr. Jackson and Mr. Smith, may have rather odd ways with them ; but " " They have very odd ways," interrupted Mrs. Wood, disdain- fully. " Our worthy friend was going to observe, ma'am, that we never fail in our devotion to the fair sex," said Mr. Jackson. " Never, ma'am ! " echoed Mr. Smith, " upon my conscience." " My dear," said the hospitable carpenter, " I dare say Mr Kneebone and his friends would be glad of a little refreshment." " They shall have it, then," replied his better half, rising. (i You base ingrate," she added, in a whisper, as she flounced past Mr. Kneebone on her way to the door, " how could you bring such creatures with you, especially on an occasion like this, when we haven't met for a fortnight ! " " Couldn't help it, my life," returned the gentleman addressed, in the same tone; " but you little know who those individuals are." " Lord bless us! you alarm me. Who are they ? " Mr. Kneebone assumed a mysterious air ; and bringing his lips close to Mrs. Wood's ear, whispered, u Secret agents from France — you understand — friends to the good cause — hem!" " I see — persons of rank ? " Mr. Kneebone nodded. "Noblemen?" Mr. Kneebone smiled assent. " Mercy on us ! Well, I thought their manners quite out ot the common. And so, the invasion really is to take place aftei all ; and the Chevalier de Saint George is to land at the Tower with fifty thousand Frenchmen ; and the Hanoverian usurper's to be beheaded ; and Doctor Sacheverel's to be made a bishop, and we're all to be — eh?" " All in good time," returned Kneebone, putting his finger to his lips ; " don't let your imagination run away with you, my charmer. That boy," he added, looking at Thames, " has his eye upon us." Mrs. Wood, however, was too much excited to attend to the caution. 72 JACK SHEPPARD. " O, lud!" she cried; "French noblemen in disguise! and $ rude as I was ! I shall never recover it ! " " A good supper will set all to rights,'' insinuated Kneebone " But be prudent, my angel." " Never fear," replied the lady. " I'm prudence personified. You might trust me with the Chevalier himself — I'd never be- tray him. Bat why didn't you let me know they were comin»? I'd have got something nice. As it is, we've only a couple of ducks, and they were intended for you. Winny, my love, come with me. I shall want you. Sorry to quit your lord — worships* I mean — I don't know what I mean," she added, a little confused, and dropping a profound curtsy to the disguised noblemen, each of whom replied by a bow, worthy, in her opinion, of a prince of the blood at the least — " but I've a few necessary orders to give below." " Don't mind us, ma'am," said Mr. Jackson : " ha ! ha ! " " Not in the least, ma'am," echoed Mr. Smith : " ho ! ho ! " " How condescending ! " thought Mrs. Wood. (i Not proud inn the least, I declare. Well, I'd no idea," she continued, pursuing her ruminations as she left the room, u that people of quality laughed so. But it's French manners, I suppose." CHAPTER V.— HAWK AND BUZZARD. Mrs. Wood's anxiety to please her distinguished guests speedily displayed itself in a very plentiful, if not very dainty, repast. T& the ducklings, peas, and other delicacies, intended for Mr. Knee- bone's special consumption, she added a few impromptu dishes, tossed off in her best style, such as lamb chops, broiled kidneys, fried ham and eggs, and toasted cheese. Side by side with ths cheese (its never-failing accompaniment, in all seasons, at the carpenter's board) came a tankard of swig, and a toast. Besides these there was a warm gooseberry-tart, and a cold pigeon-pie — the latter capacious enough, even allowing for its due com- plement of steak, to contain the whole produce of a dovecot, a couple of lobsters, and the best part of a salmon swimming in a sea of vinegar, and shaded by a furest of fennel. While the cloth was laid, the host and Thames descended to the cellar, whence they returned, laden with a number of flasks of the same form, and apparently destined to the same use as those depicted in Hogarth's delectable print — the Modern Midnight Conversation. .Mrs. Wood now reappeared with a very red face; and, followed 6y Winifred, took her seat at the table. Operations then com- menced. Mr. Wood carved the ducks ; Mr. Kneebone helped to the pigeon-pie; while Thames unwired and uncorked a bottle of stout Carnarvonshire ale. The woollen-draper was no despicable HAWK AND BUZZARD. td trenchermaa m a general way; but his feats with the knife and fork were child's sport compared with those of Mr. Smith. The leg and wing of a duck were disposed of by this gentleman in a twinkling ; a brace of pigeons and a pound of steak followed with equal celerity; and he had just begun to make a fierce as- sault upon the eggs and ham. His appetite was perfectly Gar- gantuan. Nor must it be imagined, that while he thus exercised his teeth, he neglected the flagon. On the contrary, his glass was never idle, and finding it not filled quite so frequently as he desired, he applied himself, notwithstanding the expressive looks and muttered remonstrances of Mr. Jackson, to the swig. The latter gentleman did full justice to the good things before him; but he drank sparingly, and was visibly annoyed by his compa- nion's intemperance. As to Mr. Kneebone, what with flirting with Mrs. Wood, carving tor his friends, and pledging the carpen- ter, he had his hands full. At this juncture, and just as a cuckoo- clock in the corner struck six, Jack Sheppard walked into the room, with the packing-case under his arm. " I was in the right, you see, father," observed Thames, smiling - r " Jack has done his task." " So I perceive," replied Wood. " Where am 1 to take it to'?" asked Sheppard. rt I told you that before," rejoined Wood, testily. " You must take it to Sir Rowland Trenchard's, in Southampton Fields. And, mind, it' 3 for his sister, Lady TrafFord." " Very well, sir," replied Sheppard. " Wet your whistle before you start, Jack," said Kneebone, pouring out a glass of ale. " What's that you're taking to Sir Rowland Trenchard's f * " Only a box, sir," answered Sheppard, emptying the glass. "It's an odd-shaped one,"" rejoined Kneebone, examining it at tentively. ci But I can guess what it's for. Sir Rowland is one of us," he added, winking at his companions, " and so was his brother-in-law, Sir Cecil TrafFord. Old Lancashire families both. Strict Catholics, and loyal to the backbone. Fine woman, Lady TrafFord — a little on the wane though." "Ah ! you're so very particular," sighed Mrs. Wood. 1 " Not in the least," returned Kneebone, slily ; st not in the least. Another glass, Jack." " Thank'ee, sir," grinned Sheppard. " Off with it to the health of King James the Third, and con- tusion to his enemies ? " " Hold !" interposed Wood ; " that is treason. Til have no such toast drunk at my table !" " It's the king's birthday," urged the w r oollen- draper. " Not my king's," returned Wood. " I quarrel with no man's* political opinions, but I will have my own respected !" "Eh day!" exclaimed Mrs. Wood; "here's a pretty-to-il*' 74 JACK SIIEPPAKD. about nothing. Marry, come up ! I'll see who's to be obeyed. Drink the toast, Jack." " At your peril, sirrah !" cried Wood. " He was hanged that left his drink behind, you know, master," rejoined Sheppard. " Here's King James the Third, and con- fusion to his enemies !" " Very well," said the carpenter, sitting down amid the laughter of the company. "Jack!" cried Thames, in a loud voice, "you deserve to be hanged for a rebel as you are to your lawful king aud your lawful master. But since we must have toasts," he added, snatching up a glass, " listen to mine : Here's King George the First ! a long reign to him ! and confusion to the Popish Pretender and his adherents ! " " Bravely done !" said Wood, with tears in his eyes. "That's the kinchin as was to try the dub for us, ain't it?" muttered Smith to his companion as he stole a glance at Jack Sheppard. " Silence!" returned Jackson, in a deep whisper; "and don't muddle your brains with any more of that Pharaoh. You'll need all your strength to grab him." " What's the matter ? " remarked Kneebone, addressing Shep- pard, who, as he caught the single but piercing eye of Jackson fixed upon him, started and trembled. " What's the matter?" repeated Mrs. Wood, in a sharp tone. "Ay, what's the matter, boy?" reiterated Jackson, sternly. " Did you never see two gentlemen Avith only a couple of peepers between them before ?" " Never, I'll be sworn ! " said Smith, taking the opportunity of filling his glass while his comrade's back was turned ; " we're a nat'ral cur'osity. " Can I have a word with you, master ? " said Sheppard, ap- proaching Wood. " Not a syllable ! " answered the carpenter, angrily. " Get about your business !" " Thames !" cried Jack, beckoning to his friend. But Darrell averted his head. " Mistress ! " said the apprentice, making a final appeal to Mrs. Wood. " Leave the room instantly, sirrah !" rejoined the lady, bouncing up, and giving him a slap on the cheek that made his eyes flash fire. " May I be cursed," muttered Sheppard, as he slunk away with (as the woollen-draper pleasantly observed) 'a couple of boxes in charge,' " if ever I try to be honest again !" " Take a little toasted cheese witli the swig, Mr. Smith." ob- served Wood. " That's an incorrigible rascal," he added, as Shep- pard closed the door ; " it's only to-day that I discovered " /Eth-e.t GxiJ^rhiMbk: HAWK AND BUZZARD. 75 "What?" asked Jackson, pricking up his ears. " Don't speak ill of him behind his back, father," interposed Thames. "If /were your father, young gentleman," returned Jackson, enraged at the interruption, " I'd teach you, not to speak till you were spoken to." Thames was about to reply, but a glance from Wood checked him. " The rebuke is just," said the carpenter; "at the same time, Pm not sorry to find you're a friend to fair play, which, as you seem to know, is a jewel. Open that bottle with a blue seal, my dear. Gentlemen ! a glass of brandy will be no bad finish to our meal." This proposal giving general satisfaction, the bottle circulated swiftly ; and Smith found the liquor so much to his taste, that he made it pay double toll on its passage. " Your son is a lad of spirit, Mr. Wood," observed Jackson, in a slightly-sarcastic tone. " He's not my son," rejoined the carpenter. "How, sir?" " Except by adoption. Thames Darrell is " " My husband nicknames him Thames," interrupted Mrs. Wood, " because he found him in the river! ha ! ha !" " Ha! ha!" echoed Smith, taking another bumper of brandy ; " he'll set the Thames on fire one of these days, I'll warrant him!" " That's more than you'll ever do, you drunken fool !" growled Jackson, in an under tone; " be cautious, or you'll spoil all !" " Suppose we send for a bowl of punch," said Kneebone. " With all my heart !" replied Wood. And, turning to his daughter, he gave the necessary directions in a low tone. Winifred, accordingly, left the room, and a servant being dis- patched to the nearest tavern, soon after returned with a crown bowl of the ambrosian fluid. The tables were then cleared. Bottles and glasses usurped the place of dishes and plates. Pipes were lighted ; and Mr. Kneebone began to dispense the fragrant fluid ; begging Mrs. Wood, in a whisper, as he filled a rummer to the brim, not to forget the health of the Chevalier de Saint George — a proposition to which the lady immediately responded by drinking the toast aloud. " The Chevalier shall hear of this," whispered the woollen- draper. " You don't say so ! " replied Mrs. Wood, delighted at the idea. Mr. Kneebone assured her that he did say so ; and, as a further proof of his sincerity, squeezed her hand very warmly under the table. Mr. Smith, now, being more than half-seas over, became very 76 JACK SHEPPAED. uproarious, and, claiming the attention of the table, volunteered the following DRINKING SONG. i. Jolly imsri ! the bright rubies that garnish thy tip Are dug lrom the mines of canary ; An ou -" " That's not likely to be the case, if you go on in this way," re- plied Thames, sharply. "Why, what the devil would you have had me do! — make myself scarce, eh? You should have tipped me the wink." "No more of this," rejoined Thames, "or we shall quarrel. "Who cares if we do?" retorted Sheppard, with a look of de- fiance. "Jack," said the other, sternly; "don't provoke me further, or I'll give you a thrashing." FIRST STEP TOWARDS THE LADDER. 89 " Two can play at that game, my blood," replied Sheppard, rising, and putting himself into a posture of defence. "Take care of yourself, then," rejoined Thames, doubling his fists and advancing towards him ; " though my right arm's stiff j I can use it, as you'll find." Sheppard was no match for his opponent, for, though he pos- sessed more science, he was deficient in weight and strength ; and after a short round, iu which he had decidedly the worst of it, a well-directed hit on the nob stretched him at full length on the floor. " That'll teach you to keep a civil tongue in your head for the future," observed Thames, as he helped Jack to his feet. " I didn't mean to give offence," replied Sheppard, sulkily. " But let me tell you, it's not a pleasant sight to see the girl one likes in the arms of another." " You want another drubbing, I perceive," said Thames, frown- ing. " No, I don't. Enough's as good as a feast of the dainties you provide. I'll think no more about her. Save us!" he cried, as /lis glance accidentally alighted on the drawing, which Winifred had dropped in her agitation. " Is this her work?" "It is," answered 'I names. " Do you see any likeness f " "Don't I," returned Jack, bitterly. " Strange! 1 ' he continued, as if talking to himself. "How very like it is!" " Not so strange, surely," laughed Thames, " that a picture should resemble the person for whom it's intended." "Ay, but it is strange how much it resembles somebody for whom it's not intended It's exactly like a miniature I have in iny pocket." " A miniature ! Of whom ? " "That I can't say," replied Jack, mysteriously. " But I half 6uspect of your father." "My father!" exclaimed Thames, in the utmost astonishment; " let me see it!" u Here it is," returned Jack, producing a small picture in a case set with brilliants. Thames took it, and beheld the portrait of a young man, appa- rently — judging from his attire — of high rank, whose proud and patrician features certainly presented a very striking resemblance to his own. " You're right, Jack," he said, after a pause, during which he contemplated the picture with the most fixed attention: "this must have been my father !" " No doubt of it," answered Sheppard ; " only compare it with Winny's drawing, and vou'll find they're as like as two peas in a pod." " ^Yhere did you get it?" inquired Tlames. "From Lady Traffbrd's, where 1 took the box." 90 JACK SHEPPABD. " Surely you haven't stolen it?" " Stolen's an awkward word. But, as you perceive, I brought it away with me." " It must be restored instantly — be the consequences what they may." " You're not going to betray me!" cried Jack, in alarm. " I am not," replied Thames ; " but I insist upon your taking it back at once." " Take it back yourself," retorted Jack, sullenly. " I shall do no such thing." " Very well," replied Thames, about to depart. " Stop!" exclaimed Jack, planting himself before the door; do you want to get me sent across the water V " I want to save you from disgrace and ruin," returned Thames. " Bah! " cried Jack, contemptuously ; " nobody's disgraced and ruined, unless he's found out. I'm safe enough if you hold your tongue. Give me that picture, or I'll make you ! " " Hear me," said Thames, calmly , "you well know you're no match for me." " Not at fisticuffs, perhaps," interrupted Jack, ' fiercely ; " but Tve my knife." " You daren't use it." " Try to leave the room, and see whether I daren't," returned Jack, opening the blade. " I didn't expect this from you," rejoined Thames, resolutely. " But your threats won't prevent my leaving the room when I please, and as I please. Now, will you stand aside ? " " I won't," answered Jack, obstinately. Thames said not another word, but marched boldly towards him, and seized him by the collar. "Leave so!" cried Jack, stru£T2;lino; violently, and raising his hand, " or I'll maul you for life." But Thames was not to be deterred from his purpose ; and the strife might have terminated seriously, if a peace-maker had not appeared! in the shape of little Winifred, who, alarmed by the noise, rushed suddenly into the room. "Ah!" she screamed, seeing the uplifted weapon in Sheppard'a hand, "don't hurt Thames — don't, dear Jack ! If you want to kill somebody, kill me, not him." And she flung herself between them. Jack dropped the knife, and walked sullenly aside. " What has caused this quarrel, Thames % " asked the little girl, anxiously. " You," answered Jack, abruptly. " No such thing," rejoined Thames. u I'll tell you all about it presently. But you must leave us now, dear AVinny, Jack and I have something to settle between ourselves. Dou't be afraid. Our quarrel's quite over." (ilwW tWteUuk - FIRST STEP TOWARDS THE LADDER. 91 " Are you sure of that ! " returned "Winifred, looking uneasily at Jack. " Ay, ay," rejoined Sheppard; "he may do what he pleases — hang me, if he thinks proper — if you wish it." With this assurance, and at the reiterated request of Thames, the little girl reluctantly withdrew. " Come, come, Jack," said Thames, walking up to Sheppard, and taking his hand, " have done with this. I tell you once more, I'll say and do nothing to get you into trouble. Rest assured of that. But I'm resolved to see Lady Trafford. Perhaps, she may tell me whose picture this is." " So she may," returned Jack, brightening up ; " it's a good idea. Til go with you. But you must see her alone ; and that'll be no easy matter to manage, for she's a great invalid, and has generally somebody with her. Above all, beware of Sir Rowland! Trenchard. He's as savage and suspicious as the devil himself. I should never have noticed the miniature at all. if it hadn't been for him. He was standing by, rating her ladyship — who can scarcely stir from the sofa — while I was packing up her jewels in the case, and I observed that she tried to hide a small casket from him. His back was no sooner turned, than she slipped this casket into the box. The next minute, I contrived, without either of 'em perceiving me, to convey it into my own pocket. I was sorry for what I did afterwards; for, 1 don't know why, but, poor lady! with her pale face, and black eyes, she reminded me of my mother.'" " That, alone, ought to have prevented you from acting as you did, Jack," returned Thames, gravely. " I should never have acted as I did," rejoined Sheppard, bit- terly ; " if Mrs. Wood hadn't struck me. That blow made me a thief. And, if ever I'm brought to the gallows, I shall lay my death at her door." " Well, think no more about it," retiuned Thames. " Do better in future." " I will, when I've had my revenge," muttered Jack. " But, take my advice, and keep out of Sir Rowland's way, or vou'll get the poor lady into trouble as well as me." "Never fear," replied Thames, taking up his hat. " Come, let's be off. The two boys then emerged upon the landing, and were about to descend the stairs, when the voices of Mr. and Mrs. Wood re- sounded from below. The storm appeared to have blown over, for they were conversing in a very amicable manner with Mr. Kneebone, who was on the point of departing. " Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper. " Don't mention it," returned Wood, in the conciliatory tone oi one who admits he has been in the wrong ; " your explanation is perfectly satisfactory. $2 JACK SIIEPPATID. " We shall expect you to-morrow," insinuated Mrs. Wood , ei and pray, don't bring anv bodv with you — especially Jonathan Wild." " No fear of that," laughed Kneebone. — " Oh ! about that boy, Thames Darrell. His safety must be looked to. Jonathan's threats are nut to be sneezed at. The rascal will be at work be- fore the morning. Keep your eye upon the lad. And mind he doesn't stir out of your sight, on any pretence whatever, till I call." " You hear that," whispered Jack. " I do," replied Thames, in the same tone ; " we haven't a mo- ment to lose." "Take care of yourself," said Mr. AVood, "and I'll take care of Thames. It's never a bad day that has a good ending. Good- night ! God bless you !" Upon this, there was a great shaking of hands, with renewed apologies and protestations of friendship on both sides; after which Mr. Kneebone took his leave. "And so you really suspected me ?" murmured Mrs. Wood, reproachfully, as they returned to the parlour. " Oh ! you men ! you men ! Once get a thing into your head, and nothing will beat it out." "Why, my love, 1 ' rejoined her husband, "appearances, you must allow, were a little against you. But since you assure me you didn't write the letters, and Mr. Kneebone assures me he didn't receive them, I can't do otherwise than believe you. And l*ve made up my mind that a husband ought to believe only half that he hears, and nothing that he sees." "An excellent maxim!" replied his wife, approvingly; "the best I ever heard you utter." " I must now go and look after Thames," observed the -carpenter. " Oh ! never mind him : he'll take no harm ! Come with me into the parlour. I can't spare you at present. Heigho !" " Now for it ! " cried Jack, as the couple entered the room : •" the coast's clear." Thames was about to follow, when he felt a gentle grasp upon iiis arm. He turned, and beheld Winifred. " Where are you going V she asked. " I shall be back presently," replied Thames, evasively. "Don't go, I beg of you !" she implored. You're in danger. I overheard what Mr. Kneebone said, just now." " Death and the devil ! what a cursed interruption ! " cried Jack, impatiently. " If you loiter in this way, old Wood will catch us." "If you stir, I'll call him!" rejoined Winifred. "It's you, Jack, who are persuading my brother to do wrong. Thames," she urged, " the errand, on which you're going, can't be for any good, or you wouldn't be afraid of mentioning it to my father." BROTTTER AND SISTER. «!.3 •* He's coming ! " cried Jack, stamping his foot with vexation. u Another moment, and it'll be too late." 11 Winny, I must go !" said Thames, breaking from her. " Stay, dear Thames! — stay !" cried the little girl. " He hears- me not ! he's gone 1" she added, as the door was opened and shut with violence ; u something tells me I shall never see him again I" When her father, a moment afterwards, issued from the parlour to ascertain the cause of the noise, he found her seated on the stairs, in an agony of grief. u Where's Thames t" he hastily inquired. Winifred pointed to the door. She could not speak. "And Jack?" " Gone, too," sobbed his daughter. Mr. Wood uttered something like an imprecation. "God forgive me for using such a word! 1 ' he cried, in a troubled tone ; " if I hadn't yielded to my wife's silly request, this wouldn't have happened ! " CHAPTER VII.— BROTHER AND SISTER. Ox the same evening, in a stately chamber of a noble old man- sion of Elizabeth's time, situated in Southampton Fields, two persons were seated. One of these, a lady, evidently a confirmed invalid, and attired in deep mourning, reclined upon a sort of couch, or easy-chair, set on wheels, with her head supported by cushions, and her feet resting upon a velvet footstool. A crutch, with a silver handle, stood by her side, proving the state of ex- treme debility to which she was reduced. It was no easy matter to determine her age ; for, though she still retained a certain youthfulness of appearance, she had many marks in her counte- nance, usually indicating the decline of life, but which in her case were, no doubt, the result of constant and severe indisposi- tion. Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable ; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless ; her cheeks sunken ; her frame emaciated ; her dark hair thickly scattered with grey. When younger, and in better health, she must have been eminently lovely ; and there were still the remains of great beauty about her. The expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, Avas- that of settled and profound melancholy. Her companion was a person of no inferior condition. Indeed, it was apparent from the likeness between them, that they were nearly related. He had the same dark eyes, though lighted by a fierce flame ; the same sallow complexion ; the same tall thin 94 JACK SHEPPARD. figure, and majestic demeanour; the same proud cast of features. But here the resemblance stopped. The expression was wholly different. He looked melancholy enough, it is true. But his o-loom appeared to be occasioned by remorse, rather than sorrow. No sterner head was ever beheld beneath the cowl of a monk, or the bonnet of an inquisitor. He seemed inexorable and inscru- table as fate itself. " Well, Lady Trafford," he said, fixing a severe look upon her. "You depart for Lancashire to-morrow. Have I your final — O " answer < " You have, Sir Rowland," she answered, in a feeble tone, but firmly. " You shall have the sum you require, but " " But what, madam ? " " Do not misunderstand me," she proceeded. " I give it to King James — not to you : for the furtherance of a great and holy cause, not for the prosecution of wild and unprofitable schemes." Sir Rowland bit his lips to repress the answer that rose to them. "And the will?" he said, with forced calmness. " Do you etill refuse to make one V " I have made one," replied Lady Trafford. rt How?" cried her brother, starting. " Rowland," she rejoined, u you strive in vain to terrify me into compliance with your wishes. Nothing shall induce me to act contrary to the dictates of my conscience. My will is execut- ed, and placed in safe custody.'" " In whose favour is it made ?" he inquired, sternly. " In favour of my son." " You have no son," rejoined Sir Rowland, moodily. " I had one," answered his sister, in a mournful voice ; " and, perhaps, I have one still." " If I thought so " cried the knight, fiercely ; " but this is idle," he added, suddenly checking himself. " Aliva, your child perished with its father." "And by whom were they both destroyed?" demanded his eister, raising herself by a painful effort, and regarding him with a searching glance. " By the avenger of his family's dishonour — by your brother," he replied, coolly. " Brother," cried Lady Trenchard, her eye blazing with un- natural light, and her cheek suffused with a crimson stain : " Brother," she cried, lifting her thin fingers towards heaven, " as God shall judge me, I was wedded to that murdered man!" "A lie!" ejaculated Sir Rowland, furiously; "a black, and vunning lie '" " it is the truth," replied his sister, falling backwards upon the couch. "I will swear it upon the cross 1" BROTHER AXD SISTER. 95 "His name, then?" demanded the knight. "Tell me that, and I will believe you." " Not now — not now !" she returned, with a shudder. " When I am dead you will learn it. Do not disquiet yourself. You will not have to wait long for the information. " Rowland," she added, in an altered tone, " I am, certain I shall not live many days. And, if you treat me in this way, you will have my death to answer for, as well as the deaths of my husband and child. Let us part in peace. We shall take an eternal farewell of each other." "Be it so! r rejoined Sir Rowland, with concentrated fury; " but before we do part, I am resolved to know the name of your pretended husband !" "Torture shall not wrest it from me," answered his sister, firmly. " What motive have you for concealment'?" he demanded. " A vow," she answered — " a vow to my dead husband." Sir Rowland looked at her for a moment, as if he meditated some terrible reply. He then arose, and, taking a few turns in the chamber, stopped suddenly before her. " What has put it into your head that your son yet lives 1 " he asked. " I have dreamed that I shall see him before I die," she rejoined. ''Dreamed!" echoed the knight, with a ghastly smile. "Is that all ? Then learn from me that your hopes are visionary as their foundation. Unless he can arise from the bottom of the Thames, where he and his abhorred father lie buried, you will never behold him again in this world. 1 ' " Heaven have compassion on you, Rowland ! " murmured his sister, crossing her hands, and looking upwards ; " you have none on me." . " I xcill have none till I have forced the villain's name from you I" he cried, stamping the floor with rage. " Rowland, your violence is killing me," she returned, in a plaintive tone. " His name, I say ! — his name ! " thundered the knight And he unsheathed his sword. Lady Trafford uttered a prolonged scream, and fainted. When she came to herself, she found that her bi'other had quitted the room, leaving her to the care of a female attendant. Her first orders were to summon the rest of her servants to make imme- diate preparations for her departure for Lancashire. " To-night, your ladyship V " ventured an elderly domestic. " Instantly, Hobson," returned Lady Trafford ; " as soon as the carriage can be brought round." " It shall be at the door in ten minutes. Has your ladyship any further commands'?" 96 JACK SHETPARD. 11 None whatever. Yet, stay ! There is one thing I wish you to do. Take that box, and put it into the carriage yourself Where is Sir Rowland?" " In the library, your ladyship. He has given orders that no one is to disturb him. But there's a person in the hall — a very odd sort of man — waiting to see him, who won't be sent away." " Very well. Lose not a moment, Hobson." The elderly domestic bowed, took up the case, and retired. " Your ladyship is far ioo unwell to travel,'' 1 remarked the fe- male attendant, assisting her to rise ; " you'll never be able to reach Manchester." " It matters not, Norris," replied Lady Traffbrd : " I would rather die on the road, than be exposed to another such scene as I have just encountered !" "Dear me!" sympathised Mrs. Norris. "I was afraid, from the scream I heard, that something dreadful had happened. Sir Rowland has a terrible temper indeed — a shocking temper! I declare he frightens me out of my senses." " Sir Rowland is my brother," resumed Lady Trafford, coldly. " Well, that's no reason why he should treat your ladyship so shamefully, I'm sure. Ah ! how I wish poor dear Sir Cecil were alive ! he'd keep him in order." Lady Trafford sighed deeply. " Your ladyship has never been well since you married Sir Jecil," rejoined Mrs. Norris. " For my part, I don't think you ever quite got over the accident you met with on the night of the Great Storm." ** Norris ! " gasped Lady Trafford, trembling violently. " Mercy on us ! what have I said I " cried the attendant, greatly alarmed by the agitation of her mistress ; a do sit down, your ladyship, while I run for the ratafia and rosa solis." " It is past," rejoined Lady Trafford, recovering herself by a powerful effort ; " but never allude to the circumstance again. Go, and prepare for our departure." In less time than Hobson had mentioned, the carriage was announced. And Lady Trafford having been carried down-stairs, and placed within it, the postboys drove off at a rapid pace for Barnet. CHAPTER VIII— MICHING MALLECHO. Sir Rowland, meantime, paced his chamber with a quick and agitated step. He was ill at ease, though he would not have confessed his disquietude even to himself. Not conceiving that his sister — feeble as she was, and yielding as she had ever shown herself to his wishes, whether expressed or implied — would depart MICHING MALT.ECHO. 97 without consulting him, he was equally surprised and enraged tnWv ■ COXSEQUEN'CES OF THE THEFT. 109 " My heart," rejoined Thames, firmly ; " which now tells me I am in the presence of his murderer."' " That's me," interposed Jonathan ; "a thief-taker is always a murderer in the eyes of a thief. I'm almost sorry your suspi- cions are unfounded, if your father in any way resembled you, my * youngster. But 1 can tell you who'll have the pleasure of hang- ing your father's son ; and that's a person not a hundred miles • distant from you at this moment — ha ! ha!" As he said this, the door was opened, and Charcam entered, accompanied by a dwarfish, shabby-looking man, in a brown serge frock, with coarse Jewish feacurcs, and a long red beard. Be- tween the Jew and the attendant came Jack Sheppard ; while a crowd of servants, attracted by the news, that the investigation of a robbery was going forward, lingered at the doorway in hopes of catching something of the proceedings. When Jack was brought in, he cast a rapid glance around him, and perceiving Thames in the custody of Jonathan, instantly divined how matters stood. As he looked in this direction, Wild gave him a significant wink, the meaning of which he was not slow to comprehend. " Get it over quickly," said Trenehard, in a whisper to the thief- taker. Jonathan nodded assent. "What's your name?'' he said, addressing the audacious lad, who was looking about him as coolly as if nothing material was going on. "Jack Sheppard," returned the boy, fixing his eyes upon a portrait of the Karl of Mar. " Who's that queer cove in the full- bottomed wig ? " " Attend to me, sirrah,"' rejoined Wild, sternly. " Do you know this picture?" he added, with another significant look, and pointing to the miniature. u I do," replied Jack, carelessly. " That's well. Can you inform us whence it came." " I should think so." " State the facts, then." " It came from Lady Trafford's jewel-box." Here a murmur of amazement arose from the assemblage out- side. " Close the door !" commanded Trenehard, impatiently. "In my opinion, Sir Rowland," suggested Jonathan ; "you'd better allow the court to remain open." " Be it so," replied the knight, who saw the force of this reason- ing. " Continue the proceedings." " You say that the miniature was abstracted from Lady Traf- ford's jewel-box," said Jonathan, in a loud voice. " Who took it thence ?" " Thames Darrell ; the boy at your side." HO JACK SHEPPARD. "Jack!" cried Thames, in indignant surprise. But Sheppard took no notice of the exclamation. A loud buzz of curiosity circulated among the domestics; some of whom — especially the females — leaned forward to obtain a peep at the culprit. "Si — lence!" vociferated Charcam, laying great emphasis on the last syllable. ""Were you present at the time of the robbery?" pursued Jonathan. " I was," answered Sheppard. " And will swear to it ?" " I will." " Liar !" ejaculated Thames. " Enough !" exclaimed Wild, triumphantly. " Close the court, Tilr. Charcoal. They've heard quite enough for my purpose," he muttered, as his orders were obeyed, and the domestics excluded. " It's too late to carry 'em before a magistrate now, Sir Rowland; so, with your permission, I'll give 'em a night's lodging in Saint Giles's roundhouse. You, Jack Sheppard, have nothing to fear, as you've become evidence against your accomplice. To-morrow, I shall carrv you before Justice AY alters, who'll take your infor- mation ; and I've no doubt but Thames Darrell will be fully com- mitted. Now, for the cage, my pretty canary bird. Before we start, I'll accommodate you with a pair of ruffles." And he pro- ceeded to handcuff his captive. " Hear me !" cried Thames, bursting into tears. " I am inno- cent. I could not have committed this robbery. I have only just left Wych Street. Send for Mr. AA r ood, and you'll find that I've spoken the truth." " You'd better hold your peace, my lad," observed Jonathan, in a menacing tone. "Lady Trafford would not have thus condemned me!" cried Thames. " Away with him !'' exclaimed Sir Rowland, impatiently. 11 Take the prisoners below, Nab," said Jonathan, addressing the dwarfish Jew ; " I'll join you in an instant." The bearded miscreant seized Jack by the waist, and Thames by the ns/pe of the neck, and marched off, like the ogre in the fairy tale, with a boy under each arm, while Charcam brought up the rear. MOTHER AXD SOX. HI CHAPTEE X.— MOTHER AND SON. They had scarcely been gone a moment, when a confused noise was heard without, and Charcam re-entered the room, with a countenance of the utmost bewilderment and alarm. " What's the matter with the man 1 " demanded Wild. u Her ladyship " faltered the attendant. " What of her 1 " cried the knight. " Is she returned ! " " Y — e — s, Sir Rowland," stammered Charcam. "The devil!" ejaculated Jonathan. " Here's a cross-bite." "But that's not all, your honour," continued Charcam; "Mrs. Norris says she's dying." " Dying ! " echoed the knight. " Dying, Sir Rowland. She was taken dreadfully ill on the road, with spasms and short breath, and swoonings — worse than ever she was before. And Mrs. Norris was so frightened that she ordered the postboys to drive back as fast as they could. She never expected to get her ladyship home alive." " My God !" cried Trenchard, stunned by the intelligence; " I have killed her." " No doubt, rejoined Wild," with a sneer ; " but don't let all the world know it." "They're lifting her out of the carriage," interposed Charcam; " will it please your honour to send for some advice and the chaplain f " " Fly for both," returned Sir Rowland, in a tone of bitter an- guish. " Stav !" interposed Jonathan. "' Where are the boys ?" " In the hall." " Her ladyship will pass through it ?" " Of course ; there's no other way." " Then, bring them into this room, the first thing— quick ! They must not meet, Sir Rowland," he added, as Charcam hast- ened to obey his instructions. " Heaven has decreed it otherwise," replied the knight, deject- edly. " I yield to fate." " Yield to nothing," returned Wild, trying to re-assure him ; " above all, when your designs prosper. Man's fate is in his own hands. You are your nephew's executioner, or he is yours. Cast off this weakness. The next hour makes or mars you for ever. Go to your sister, and do not quit her till all is over. Leave the rest to me." Sir Rowland moved irresolutely towards the door, but recoiled before a sad spectacle. This was his sister, evidently in the last extremity. Bome in the arms of a couple of assistants, and pre- ceded by Mrs. Norris, wringing her hands and weeping, the unfortunate lady was placed upon a couch. At the same time, 112 JACK SHEPPAPD. Charcam, who seemed perfectly distracted by the recent occur- rences, dragged in Thames, leaving Jack Sheppard outside in the custody of the dwarfish Jew. " Helfs curses ! " muttered Jonathan between his teeth : tt that fool will ruin all. Take him away,'' he added, striding up to Charcam. " Let him remain," interposed Trenchard. " As you please. Sir Rowland/' returned Jonathan, with affect- ed indifference ; " but I'm not going to hunt the deer for another to eat, the ven'son, depend on't." "But seeing that no notice waa taken of the retort, he drew a little aside, and folded his arms, muttering, " The whim will soon be over. She can't last long. I can pull the strings of this stiff- necked puppet as I please." Sir Rowland, meantime, threw himself on his knees beside his eister, and, clasping her chilly lingers within his own, besought her forgiveness in the most passionate terms. For a few minutes she appeared scarcely sensible of his presence. But, after some restoratives had been administered by Mrs. Norris, she revived a little. "Rowland!" she said, in a faint voice, "I have not many minutes to live. Where is Father Spencer ? I must have abso- lution. I have something that weighs heavily upon my mind." Sir Rowland's brow darkened. "J have sent for him, Aliva," he answered ; "he will be here directly, with your medical advisers."' "They areuseless," shereturned; "medicine cannot save me now." " Dear sister " " I should die happy, if I could behold my child. 1 ' " Comfort yourself, then, Aliva. You shall behold him." " You are mocking me, Rowland. Jests are not for seasons like this." " 1 am not, by heaven," returned the knight, solemnly. " Leave us, Mrs. Norris, and do not return till Father Spencer arrives." "Your ladyship — " hesitated Norris. " Go !" said Lady Trafford ; " it is my last request." And her faithful attendant, drowned in tears, withdrew, fol- lowed by the two assistants. Jonathan stepped behind a curtain. " Rowland," said Lady Trafford, regarding him with a look of indescribable anxiety, " you have assured me that I shall behold my son. Where is "he?" " Within this room," replied the knight. "Here!" shrieked Lady Trafford. " Here," repeated her brother. " But calm yourself, dear sister, or the interview will be too much for you." " I am calm — quite calm, Rowland," she answered, with lips vhose agitation belied her words. " Then, the story of his death MOTHER AND SON. 113 was false. 1 knew it. I was sure you could not have the heart to slay a child — an innocent child. God forgive you!" "May lie, indeed, forgive me!" returned Trenchard, crossing himself devoutly; "but my guilt is not the less heavy, because your child escaped. This hand consigned him to destruction, but another was stretched forth to save him. The infant was rescued ' from a watery grave bv an honest mechanic, who has since brought him up as his own son." "Blessings upon him!" cried Lady TrafTord, fervently. " But trifle with me no longer. Moments are ages now. Let no see my child, if he is really here?" " Behold him!" returned Trenchard, taking Thames (who had been a mute but deeply interested witness of the scene) by the hand, and leading him towards her. " Ah!" exclaimed Lady Tf afford, exerting all her strength. " My sight is failing me. Let me have more light, that 1 may behold him. Yes!" she screamed, " these are his father's features I It is — it is my son 1" " Mother !" cried Thames ; " are you, indeed, my mother .'" "I am, indeed — my own sweet boy!" she sobbed, pressing him tenderly to her breast. "Oh! — to see you thus!" cried Thames, in an agony of affliction. " Don't weep, my love," replied the lady, straining him still more closely to her. " I am happy — quite happy now." During this touching interview, a change had come over Sir Rowland, and he half repented of what he had done. " You can no longer refuse to tell me the name of this youth's father, Aliva," he said. " I dare not, Rowland," ehe answered. " I cannot break my vow. I will confide it to Father Spencer, who will acquaint you with it when I am no more. Undraw the curtain, love," she added to Thames, " that I may look at you." " Ha I" exclaimed her son, starting back, as he obeyed her, and disclosed Jonathan Wild. " Be silent," said Jonathan, in a menacing whisper. " What have you seen?" inquired Lady TrafTord. " My enemy!" replied her son. " Your enemy ! v she returned, imperfectly comprehending him. u Sir Rowland is your uncle — he will be your guardian — he will protect you. Will you not, brother?" " Promise," said a deep voice in Trenchard' s ear. " He will kill me," cried Thames. " There is a man in this room who seeks my life." " Impossible !" rejoined his mother. " Look at these fetters," returned Thames, holding up his manaeled wrists ; " they were put on by my uncle's command." " Ah!" shrieked Lady Trattord. 114 JACK SHEPPAKD " Not a moment is to be lost," whispered Jonathan to Tren- chard. " His life or yours ?" si No one shall harm you more, my dear," cried Lady TrafFord. u Your uncle must protect you. It will be his interest to do so He will be dependent on you." " Do what you please with him," muttered Trenchard to Wild. " Take off these chains, Rowland," said Lady Trafford, u in- stantly — I command you." " / will," replied Jonathan, advancing, and rudely seizing Thames. " Mother!" cried the son, " help!" " What is this ? " shrieked Lady Trafford, raising herself on the couch, and extending her hands towards him. ei Oh God ! would you take him from me ? — would you murder him ? " "His father's name! — and he is free," rejoined Rowland, holding her arms. " Release him first — and I will disclose it!" cried Lady Traf- ford ; " on my soul, I will ! " " Speak then !" returned Rowland. " Too late ! " shrieked the lady, falling heavily backwards — "too late!— oh!" Heedless of her cries, Jonathan passed a handkerchief tightly over her son's mouth, and forced him out of the room. When he returned, a moment or so afterwards, he found Sir Rowland standing by the lifeless body of his sister. His countenance was almost as white and rigid as that of the corpse by his side. " This is your work," said the knight, sternly. " Not entirely," replied Jonathan, calmly ; " though I shouldn't be ashamed of it if it were. After all, you failed in obtaining the secret from her, Sir Rowland. Women are hypocrites to the last — true only to themselves." tl Peace ! " cried the knight, fiercely. tl No offence," returned Jonathan. " I was merely about to observe that / am in possession of her secret." "You!" " Didn't I tell you that the fugitive Darrell gave me a glove ? But we'll speak of this hereafter. You can purchase the informa- tion from me whenever you're so disposed. I sba'n't drive a hard. bargain. To the point, however. 1 came bacK to say, that I've placed your nephew in a coach ; and, if you'll be at my lock in the Old Bailey an hour after midnight, you shall hear the last tidings of him." " 1 will be there," answered Trenchard, gloomily. " You'll not forget the thousand, Sir Rowland — short accounts, you know." " Fear nothing. You shall have your j"»ward." THE MOHOCKS. 115 " Thank'cc — thank'ee. My house is the next door to the Cooper's Arm?, in the Old Bailey, opposite Newgate. You'll find me at supper. - ' So saying, he bowed and departed. " That man should have been an Italian bravo." murmured the knight, sinking into a chair: " he has neither fear nor com- punction. "Would I could purchase his apathy as easily as 1 can procure his assistance." Soon after this Mrs. Xorris entered the room, followed by Father Spencer. On approaching the couch, they found Sir Rowland senseless, and extended over the dead body of his unfortunate sister. CHAPTER XI.— THE MOHOCKS. JONATHAN "Wild, meanwhile, had quitted the house. He found a coach at the door, with the blinds carefully drawn up, and ascertained from a tall, ill-looking, though tawdrily-dressed fellow, who held his horse by the bridle, and whom he addressi 1 as Quilt Arnold, that the two boys were safe inside, in the cu - tody of Abraham Mendez, the dwarfish Jew. As soon as he had delivered his instructions to Quilt, who with Abraham con- stituted his body-guard, or janizaries, as he termed them, Jona- than mounted his steed, and rode off at a gallop. Quilt was not long in following his example. Springing upon the box, he told the coachman to make the best of his way to Saint Gil Stimulated by the promise of something handsome to drink, the man acquitted himself to admiration in the management of his lazy cattle. Crack went the whip, and away floundered the heavy vehicle through the deep ruts of the ill-kept road, or rather lane (for it was little better), which then led across Southampton Fields. Skirting the noble gardens of Montague House (now, we need scarcely say, the British Museum), the party speedily reached Great Russell Street — a quarter described by Strype, in his edition of old Stowe's famous Sui-vey, " as being graced with the best buildings in all Blcomsbury, and the best inhabited by the nobility and gentry, especially the north side, as having gardens behind the houses, and the prospect of the pleasant fields up to Hampstead and Highgate ; insomuch that this place, by physicians, is esteemed the most healthful of any in London." [Neither of the parties outside bestowed much attention upon these stately and salubriously-situated mansions ; indeed, as it was now not far from ten o'clock, and quite dark, they could scarcely discern them. But, in spite of his general insensibility to such matters, Quilt could not help commenting upon the delicious perfume wafted from the numerous flower-beds 11(3 JACK SIIEPPARD. past which they were driving. The coachman answered by a Burly grunt, and, plying his whip with redoubled zeal, shaped his course down Dyot Street ; traversed that part of Holborn which is now called Broad Street, and where two ancient alms-houses were then standing in the middle of that great thoroughfare, exactly opposite the opening of Compton Street ; and, driving under a wide gateway on the left, soon reached a more open space, surrounded by mean habitations, coach-houses, and stables, called Kendrick Yard, at the farther end of which Saint Giles's roundhouse was situated. No sooner did the vehicle turn the corner of this yard, than Quilt became aware, from the tumultuous sounds that reached his ears, as well as from the flashing of various lanterns at the door of the roundhouse, that some disturbance was going on; and apprehensive of a rescue, if he drew up in the midst of the mob, he thought it prudent to come to a halt. Accordingly, he stopped the coach, dismounted, and hastened towards the assemblage, which he was glad to find consisted chiefly of a posse of watchmen, and other guardians of the night. Quilt, who was an ardent lover of mischief, could not help laughing most heartily at the rueful appearance of these personages. Not one of them but bore the marks of having been engaged in a recent find severe conflict. Quarter-staves, bludgeons, brown-bills, lanterns, swords, and sconces were alike shivered ; and, to judge from the sullied state of their habiliments, the claret must have been tapped pretty freely. Never was heard such a brawling as these unfor- tunate wights kept up. Oaths exploded like shells from a battery in full fire, accompanied by threats of direst vengeance against the individuals who had maltreated them. Here might be seen a poor fellow wdiose teeth were knocked down his throat, spluttering out the most tremendous menaces, and gesticulating like a madman : there, another, whose nose was partially slit, vented imprecations and lamentations in the same breath. On the right stood a bulky figure, with a broken rattle hanging out of his great-coat pocket, who held up a lantern to his battered countenance to prove to the spectators that both his orbs of vision were darkened : on the left, a meagre constable had di- vested himself of his shirt, to bind up with greater convenience a gaping cut in the arm. " So, the Mohocks have been at work, I perceive," remarked Quilt, as he drew near the group. " Faith, an' you may say that," returned a watchman, who was wiping a ruddy stream from his brow ; " they've broken the paice, and our pates into the bargain. But shure/y I'd know that vice, v he added, turning his lantern toward the janizary. "Ah! Quilt Arnold, my man, is it you 1 ? By the powers! I'm glad to see you. The sight o' your 'andsome phiz alleys doea me good." THE MOHOCKS. 117 i( I wish I could return the compliment, Terry. But your cracked skull is by no means a pleasing spectacle. How came you by the hurt, eh ?" u How did I come by it? — that's a nate question. Why, honestly enough. It was lent me by a countryman of mine ; but I paid him back in his own coin — ha ! hal" " A countryman of yours, Terry?" {< Ay, and a noble one, too, Quilt — more's the pity, you've heard of the Marquis of Slaughterford, belike?'' " Of course ; who has not ? He's the leader of the Mohocks, the general of the Scourers, the prince of rakes, the friend of the Burgeons and glaziers, the terror of your tribe, and the idol of the girls 1" " That's him to a hair!'' cried Terence, rapturously. " Och ! he's a broth of a boy !" " Why, I thought he'd broken your head, Terry?" " Phooh ! that's nothing ! A piece o' plaster '11 set all to rights ; and Terry O'Flaherty's not the boy to care for the stroke of a supple-jack. Besides, didn't I tell you that I giv' him as good as he brought — and better! Ijist touched him with my ' Evenin' Star,' as I call this shillelah," said the watchman, flourishing an immense bludgeon, the knob of which appeared to be loaded with lead, " and, by Saint Patrick ! down he cum'd like a bullock."' " Zounds!" exclaimed Quilt, " did you kill him?" " Not quite," replied Terence, laughing ; " but I brought him to his senses." " By depriving him of 'em, eh ? But I'm sorry you hurt his lordship, Terry. Young noblemen ought to be indulged in their frolics. If they do, now and then, run away with a knocker, paint a sign, beat the watch, or huff a magistrate, they pay for their pastime, and that's sufficient. What more could any rea- sonable man — especially a watchman — desire? Besides, the Marquis is a devilish fine fellow, and a particular friend of mine. There's not his peer among the peerage." " Och ! if he's a friend o' yours, my dear joy, there's no more to be said ; and right sorry am I, I struck him. But, blood-an'- 'ouns ! man, if ould Nick himself were to hit me a blow, I'd be afther givin" him another." " Well, well — wait awhile," returned Quilt ; " his lordship won't forget you. He's as generous as he's frolicsome." As he spoke, the door of the roundhouse was opened, and a stout man, with a lantern in his hand, presented himself at the threshold. " There's Sharpies," cried Quilt. " ^Vhist !" exclaimed Terence : " he elevates his glim. By Jasus ! he's about to spake to us." " (icm'mcn o' the votch!" cried Sharpies, as loudly as a wheezy 1 1 8 JACK SHEPPAHD. cough would permit him, " my noble pris'ner — ough ! ough; — the Markis o' Slaughterford — " Further speech was cut short by a volley of execrations from he angry guardians of the night. " No Mohocks! No Scourers !" cried the mob. "Hear! hear!" vociferated Quilt. " His lordship desires me to say — ough ! ough !" Fresh groans and hisses. " Yon't you hear me? — ough! ough!" demanded Sharpies, after a pause. "By all means," rejoined Quilt. " Raise your vice, and lave off coughin'," added Terence. " The long and the short o' the matter's this, then," returned Sharpies with dignity, " the Markis begs your acceptance o' ten guineas to drink his health." The hooting was instantaneously changed to cheers. " And his lordship, furthermore, requests me to state," pro- ceeded Sharpies in a hoarse tone, " that he'll be responsible for the doctors' bills of all such geni'men as have received broken pates, or been otherwise damaged in the fray— ough! ough !" "Hurrah !" shouted the mob. "We're all damaged — we've all got broken pates!" cried a dozen voices. "Ay, good-luck to him! so we have," rejoined Terence; "but we've no objection to take out the doctor's bill in drink." " None whatever," replied the mob. "Your answer, gem'men?" demanded Sharpies. "Long life to the Markis, and we accept his honourable proposal," responded the mob. "Long life to the Marquis?" reiterated Terence; "he's an honour to ould Ireland !" " Didn't I tell you how it would be ? " remarked Quilt. "Troth, and so did you," returned the watchman; "but I couldn't belave it. In futur', I'll keep the 'Evenin' Star' for his lordship's enemies." " You'd better," replied Quilt. " But bring your glim this way. I've a couple of kinchens in yonder rattler, whom I wish to place under old Sharpies' care." " Be handy, then," rejoined Terence, "or I'll lose my share of the smart-money." With the assistance of Terence, and a linkboy who volunteered his services, Quilt soon removed the prisoners from the coach, and leaving Shepparft to the custody of Abraham, proceeded to drag Thames towards the roundhouse. Not a word had been exchanged between the two boys on the road. "Whenever Jack attempted to speak, he was checked by an angry growl from Abraham ; and Thames, though his heart was full almost to burst- ing, felt no inclination to break the silence. His thoughts, THE MOHOCKS. 119 indeed, were toe painful for utterance, and so acute were his feelings, that, for some time, they quite overcame him. But his grief was of short duration. The elastic spirits of youth resumed their sway ; and, before the coach stopped, his tears had ceased to flow. As to Jack Sheppard, he appeared utterly reckless and insensible, and did nothing but whistle and sing the whole way. While he was dragged along in the manner just described, Thames looked around to ascertain, if possible, where he was; for he did not put entire faith in Jonathan's threat of sending him to the roundhouse, and was apprehensive of something even worse than imprisonment. The aspect of the place, so far as he could discern through the gloom, was strange to him; but, chancing to raise his eyes above the level of the surrounding habitations, he beheld, relieved against the sombre sky, the tall steeple of Saint Giles's church, the precursor of the present structure, which was not erected till some fifteen years later. He recognised this object at once. Jonathan had not deceived him. " What's this here kinchen in for .- " asked Terence, as he and Quilt strode along, with Thames between them. " What for?" rejoined Quilt, evasively. "Oh! nothin' partickler — mere curossity," replied Terence. "By the powers!" he added, turning his lantern full upon the face of the captive, "he's a nice genn-teel-lookin' kiddy, I must say. Pity he's ta'en to bad ways so airly." " You may spare me your compassion, friend," observed Thames ; " 1 am falsely detained." '• Of course," rejoined Quilt, maliciously; "every thief is so. If we were to wait till a prig was rightfully nabbed, we might tarry till doomsday. We never supposed you helped yourself to a picture set with diamonds — not Ave!" "Is the guv'ner consarned in this job?" — asked Terence, in a whisper. " He is," returned Quilt, significantly. " Zounds ! what's that?" he cried, as the noise of a scuffle was heard behind them. "The other kid's given my partner the slip. Here, take this youngster, Terry; my legs are lighter than old Nabs." And, committing Thames to the care of the watchman, he darted after the fugitive. u Do you wish to earn a rich reward, my good friend?" said Thames to the watchman, as soon as they were left alone. " Is it by lettin' you go, my darlin', that I'm to aim it ?" in- quired Terence. " If so, it won't pay. You're Misther Wild's pris'ner, and worse luck to it !" "I don't ask you to liberate me," urged Thames ; " but will you convey a message for me?"' " Where to, honey?" "To Mr. Wood's, the carpenter in Wych Street. lie lives near the Black Lion." 120 JACK SHEPrARD. u The Black Lion !"' echoed Terence. ' ; I know the house well; by the same token that it's a flash crib. Och ! many a mug o 1 bubb have I drained wi' the landlord. Joe Hind. And so Mother "Wuchl lives near the Black Lion, eh?" "He does," replied Thames. "Tell him that I — his adopted eon, Thames Darrell — am detained here by Jonathan Wild." " Thames Ditton — is that your name ?" tl No," replied the bo\', impatiently ; u Darrell — Thames Darrell." " I'll not forget it. It's a mighty quare 'un, though. I never yet heard of a Christian as was named after the Shannon or the Liffey; and the Thames is no better than a dirty puddle com- pared wi' them two noble strames. But then you're an adopted son, and that makes all the difference. People do call their un- lawful children strange names. Are you quite sure you haven't another alvas, Masther Thames Ditton f " " Darrell, I tell you. Will you go? You'll be paid handsomely for your trouble." " I don't mind the throuble," hesitated Terence, who was really a good-hearted fellow at the bottom ; " and I'd like to sarve you if I could, for you look like a gentleman's son, and that goes a great way wi' me. But if Misther Wild were to find out that I thwarted his schames " " I'd not be in your skin for a trifle," interrupted Quilt, who, having secured Sbeppard, and delivered him to Abraham, now approached them unawares; " and it sha'n't be my fault if he don't hear of it." "'Ouns!" ejaculated Terence, in alarm, "would you turn snitch on your old pal, Quilt 1 " " Ay, if he plays a cross," returned Quilt. " Come along, my sly shaver. With all your cunning, we're more than a match for you." " But not for me," growled Terence, in an under tone. "Remember !" cried Quilt, as he forced the captive along. "Kcjnember the devil !" retorted Terence, who had recovered his natural audacity. " Do you think I'm afraid of a beggarly thief-taker and his myrmidons % Not I. Masther Thames Dit- ton, I'll do your biddin' ; and you, Misther Quilt Arnold, may do your worst, I defy you." " Dog !" exclaimed Quilt, turning fiercely upon him, " do you threaten?" But the watchman eluded his grasp, and, mingling with the crowd, disappeared. saint Giles's roundhouse. 12 J CHAPTER XII— SAINT GILES'S ROUNDHOUSE. Saint Giles's Roundhouse was an old detached fabric, standing in an angle of Kendrick Yard. Originally built, as its name imports, in a cylindrical form, like a modern Martello tower, it had undergone from time to time so many alterations, that its symmetry was in a great measure, destroyed. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end — a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale ; — and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture — it hardly deserved to be called a door — pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrel, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. The prison was two stories high, with a flat roof, surmounted by a gilt vane fashioned like a key: and, possessing considerable internal accommodation, it had in its day lodged some thousands of disorderly personages. The windows were small, and strongly grated, looking in front on Kendrick Yard, and at the back upon the spacious burial-ground of Saint Giles's Church. Lights gleamed from the lower rooms, and, on a nearer approach to the building, the sound of revelry might be heard from within. Warned of the approach of the prisoners by the increased clamour, Sharpies, who was busied in distributing the Marquis's donation, affected to throw the remainder of the money among the crowd, though, in reality, he kept back a couple of guineas, which he slipped into his sleeve, and, running hastily up the steps, unlocked the door. He was followed more leisurely by the prisoners; and, during their ascent, Jack Sheppard made a second attempt to escape by ducking suddenly down, and endeavouring to pass under his conductor's legs. The dress of the dwarfish Jew was not, however, favourable to this expedient. Jack was caught, as in a trap, by the pendant tails of Abraham's long frock; and, instead of obtaining his release by his ingenuity, he only got a sound thrashing. Sharpies received them at the threshold, and holding his lantern towards the prisoners to acquaint himself with their features, nodded to Quilt, between whom and himself some secret understanding seemed to subsist, and then closed and barred the door. " Veil," he growled, addressing Quilt, " you know who's here, I suppose?" " To be sure I do," replied Quilt; " my noble friend, the Marquis of Slaughterford. What of that?" " Vot 'o that!" echoed Sharpies, peevishly: " Every thin'. Vot am I to do vith these young imps, eh?" " What you generally do with your prisoners, Mr. Sharpies,* replied Quilt; " lock 'em up." 122 JACK SIIEPPAKD. " That's easily said. But, suppose I've no place to lock 'em up in, how then?" Quilt looked a little perplexed. He passed his arm under that of the constable, and drew him aside. " Veil, veil," growled Sharpies, after he had listened to the other's remonstrances, " it shall be done. But it's confounded tnconwenient. One don't often get sich a vindfal as the Markis — " " Or such a customer as Mr. Wild," edged in Quilt. " Now, then, Saint Giles!" interposed Shcppard, " are we to be kept here all night?" " Eh day!" exclaimed Sharpies: " wot newfledged bantam's this?" " One that wants to go to roost," replied Sheppard. " So, stir your stumps, Saint Giles; and, if you mean to lock us up, use despatch." " Comin'! comin'!" returned the constable, shuffling towards him. " Coming! — so is midnight — so is Jonathan Wild," retorted Jack, with a significant look at Thames. " Have you never an out-o'-the-vay corner, into vich you could shtow these troublesome warmint?" observed Abraham. " The guv'ner '11 be here afore midnight." Darrell's attention was drawn to the latter part of this speech by a slight pressure on his foot. And, turning at the touch, he perceived Sheppard's glance fixed meaningly upon him. "Stow it, 2sab!" exclaimed Quilt, angrily; "the kinchen's awake." "Awake ! — to be sure I am, my flash cove," replied Sheppard; " I'm down as a hammer." "I've just bethought me of a crib as '11 serve their turn," in- terposed Sharpies ; " at any rate, they'll be out o' the vay, and as safe as two chicks in a coop." "Lead the way to.it then, Saint Giles," said Jack, in a tone of mock authority. The place in which they stood was a small entrance-chamber, cut off, like the segment of a circle, from the main apartment (of which it is needless to say it originally constituted a portion) by a stout wooden partition. A door led to the inner room ; and i it was evident, from the peals of merriment and other noises, that ; ever and anon resounded from within, that this chamber was j occupied by the Marquis and his friends. Against the walls hung . an assortment of staves, brown-bills (weapons then borne by the watch), muskets, handcuffs, great-coats, and lanterns. In one angle of the room stood a disused fireplace, with a rusty grate and broken chimneypiece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard. Towards this box Sharpies directed his steps, and. unlocking a hatch in the door, disclosed SAINT GILES'S ROUNDHOUSE. 123 iv recess scarcely as large, and certainly not as clean, as a do™ kennel. "Vill this do?" demanded the constable, taking the candle from the lantern, the better to display the narrow limits of the hole. " I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway pren- tices' cells in Guildhall. I have squeezed three kids into it afore now. To be sure," he added, lowering his tone, " they wos little 'uns, and one on 'em was smothered — ough ! ough ! — how this cough chokes me !" Sheppard, meanwhile, whose hands were at liberty, managed to possess himself, unperceived, of the spike of a halbert, which was lying, apart from the pole, upon a bench near him. Having secured this implement, he burst from his conductor, and, leap- ing into the hatch, as clowns generally spring into the clock-faces, when in pursuit of harlequin in the pantomime — that is, hack foremost — broke into a fit of loud and derisive laughter, kicking his heels merrily all the time against the boards. His mirth, however, received an unpleasant check; for Abraham, greatly incensed by his previous conduct, caught him by the legs, and pushed him with such violence into the hole, that the point of the spike, which he had placed in his pocket, found its way through his clothes to the flesh, inflicting ;i slight, hut painful wound. Jack, who had something of the Spartan in his composition, endured his martyrdom without flinching; and carried his stoical indifference so tar, as even to making a mocking grimace in Sharpies' face, Avhilc that amiable functionary thrust Thames into the recess beside him. "How do you like your quarters, saucebox?" asked Sharpies, in a jeering tone. " Letter than your company, Saint Giles," replied Sheppard ; "so, shut the door, and make yourself scarce." " That boy '11 never rest till he finds his vay to Bridewell," observed Sharpies. " Or the street," returned Jack : " mind my words, the prison's not built that can keep me." " AYe"li see that, young hempsced," replied Sharpies, shutting the hatch furiously in his face, and locking it. " If you get out o' that cage, I'll forgive you. Now, come along, gem'men, and I'll show you some precious sport." The two janizaries followed him as far as the entrance to the inner room, when Abraham, raising his finger to his lips, and glancing significantly in the direction of the boys, to explain his intention to his companions, closed the door after them, and stole softly back again, planting himself near the recess. For a few minutes all was silent. At length Jack Sheppard observed : — " The coasts clear. They're gone into the next room." Darrel returned no answer. 124 JACK SIIEPPARD. : ' Don't be angry with me, Thames," continued Sheppard, in a tone calculated, as he thought, to appease his companion's indig- nation. " I did all for the best, as I'll explain." " I won't reproach you, .lack,"' said the other, sternly. " I've done with you." "Not quite, 1 hope,"' rejoined Sheppard. " At all events, I've not done with you. If you owe your confinement to me, you 6hall owe your liberation to me also." " I'd rather lie here for ever, than be indebted to you for my freedom," returned Thames. u I've done nothing to offend you," persisted Jack. "Nothing!" echoed the other, scornfully. " You've perjured yourself." " That's my own concern," rejoined Sheppard. " An oath weighs little with me, compared with your safety." " No more of this," interrupted Thames, " you make the matter worse by these excuses." " Quarrel with me as much as you please, Thames, but hear me," returned Sheppard. " I took the course I pursued to serve you." " Tush !" cried Thames ; "you accused me to screen yourself." " On my soul, Thames, you wrong me ! " replied Jack, pas- sionately. " I'd lay down my life for yours." " And you expect me to believe you after what has passed?" " I do ; and, more than that, I expect you to thank me." u For procuring my imprisonment?" " F<>r saving your life." "How?" " Listen to me, Thames. You're in a more serious scrape than you imagine. I overheard Jonathan Wild's instructions to Quilt Arnold, and though he spoke in slang, and id an under tone, my quick ears, and acquaintance with the thieves' lingo, enabled me to make out every word he uttered. Jonathan is in league with Sir Rowland to make away with you. You are brought here that their designs may be carried into effect with greater security. Before morning, unless we can effect an escape, you'll be kid- napped or murdered, and your disappearance attributed to the negligence of the constable." "Are you sure of this?" asked Thames, who, though as brave a lad as need be, could not repress a shudder at the intelligence. " Certain. The moment I entered the room, and found you a prisoner in the hands of Jonathan Wild, I guessed how matters stood, and acted accordingly. Things haven't gone quite as smoothly as I anticipated; but they might have been worse. I can save you, and will. But, say we're friends." "You're not deceiving me!" said Thames, doubtfully. "I am not, by Heaven!" replied Sheppard, firmly. "Don't swear, Jack, or I shall distrust you. I can't give you iny hand; but you may take it." SATNT GILES'S ROUNDHOUSE. 125 "Thank you! thank you!" faltered Jack, in a voice full of emotion. " I'll soon free you from these bracelets." " You needn't trouble yourself," replied Thames. " Mr. "Wood will be here presently." " Mr. Wood ! " exclaiiued Jack, in surprise. " How have yot. managed to communicate with him I "" Abraliam, who had listened attentively to the foregoing con- versation — not a word of which escnpcd him — now drew in his breath, and brought his ear closer to the boards. " By means of the watchman who had the charge of me," re- plied Thames. "Curse him!" muttered Abraham. "Hist ! "' exclaimed Jack. " I thought I heard a noise. Speak lower. Somebody may be on the watch — perhaps that old gin gcr-hackled Jew." " I don't care if he is," rejoined Thames, boldly. " He'll learn that his plans will be defeated." " lie may learn how to defeat yours," replied Jack. " So ho may," rejoined Abraham, aloud, "so he may." " Death and fiends ! " exclaimed Jack : " the old thief is there. I knew it. You've betrayed yourself, Thames." "Yot o' that?" chuckled Abraham. " Yoic can shave him, you know." "I can" rejoined Jack; "and you too, old Aaron, if I'd a razor." "How soon do you expect Mishter Vuddl" inquired the janizary, tauntingly. " What's that^to you?" retorted Jack, surlily. " Because I shouldn't like to be out o' the vay ven he arrives,'* returned Abraham in a jeering tone; "it vouldn't be veil bred." " Youldn't it!" replied Jack, mimicking his snuffling voice;. " then shtay vere you are, and be cursed to you.'' " It's all up," muttered Thames. " Mr. Wood will be inter- cepted. I've destroyed my only chance." " Not your only chance, Thames," returned Jack, in the same undertone; "'but your best. Never mind. We'll turn the tables upon 'em yet. Do you think we could manage that old clothes- man between us, if we got out of this box?" " I'd manage him myself, if my arms were free," replied Thames, boldly. " Shpeak up, vill you?" cried Abraham, rapping his knuckles against the hatch. " I likes to hear vot you says. You can have no shecrets from me." " Yy don't you talk to your partner, or Saint Giles, if you vant conversation, Aaron?" asked Jack, slily. "Because they're in the next room, and the door's shut; that's vy, my jack-a-dandy!" replied Abraham, unsuspiciously. "Oh! they are — are they?" muttered Jack, triumphantly; 120 jack sheppakd. "that'll do. Now for it, Thames! Make as great a row as you can to divert his attention." With this, he drew the spike from his pocket; and, drowning the sound of the operation by whistling, singing, shuffling, and other noises, contrived in a few minutes to liberate his compa- nion from the handcuffs. " Now, Jack," cried Thames, warmly grasping Sheppard's hand, "you are my friend again. I freely forgive you." Sheppard cordially returned the pressure; and, cautioning Thames, " not to let the ruffles drop, or they might tell a tale," began to warble the following fragment of a robber melody: — " Oh ! give me a chisel, a knife, or a file, And the dubsnien shall find that I'll do it in style ! Tol-de-rol ! " " Vot the devil are you about, noisy? " inquired Abraham. "Practising singing, Aaron," replied Jack. "Vot are you?" " Practising patience," growled Abraham. " Not before it's needed," returned Jack, aloud; adding in a whisper, " get upon my shoulders, Thames. Now you're up, take this spike. Feel for the lock, and prize it open — you don't need to be told how. When it's done, I'll push you through. Take care of the old clothesman, and leave the rest to me. "When the turnkey, nest morning, stepp'd into his room, The sight of the hole in the wall struck him dumb ; The sheriff's black bracelets lay strewn on the gound, Bat the lad that had worn 'em could nowhere be found. Tol-de-rol!" As Jack concluded his ditty, the door flew open with a crash, and Thames sprang through the aperture. This manoeuvre was so suddenly executed that it took Abraham completely by surprise. He was standing at the moment close to the hatch, with his ear at the keyhole, and received a severe blow in the face. He staggered back a few paces; and, before he could recover himself, Thames tripped up his heels, and, placing the point of the spike at his throat, threatened to stab him if he attempted to stir, or cry out. Nor had Jack been idle all this time. Clearing the reces3 the instant after his companion, he flew to the door of the inner room, and, locking it, took out the key. The policy of this step was immediately apparent. Alarmed by the noise of the scuffle, Quilt and Sharpies rushed to the assistance of their comrade. But they were too late. The entrance was barred against them; and they had the additional mortification of hearing Sheppard's loud laughter at their dis- comfiture. u I told you the prison, wasn't built that could hold me," cried Jack. " You're not out yet, you young hound," rejoined Quilt, striving ineffectually to burst open the door. SAINT GILES S ROUNDHOUSE. 127 " But I soon shall be," returned Jack; " take these," he added, flinging the handcuffs against the wooden partition, " and wear 'em yourself." " Halloo, Nab!" vociferated Quilt. " "What the devil are you. about? Will you allow yourself to be beaten by a couple of kids?" " Not if I can help it," returned Abraham, making a desperate effort to regain his feet. " By my shalvation, boy," he added, fiercely, " if you don't take your hand off my peard, I'll shtrangle you."' " Help me, Jack !" shouted Thames, " or I shaVt be able to keep the villain down." " Stick the spike into him, then," returned Shcppard, coolly, " while I unbar the outlet." But Thames had no intention of following his friend's advice. Contenting himself with brandishing the weapon in the Jew's eyes, he exerted all his force to prevent him from rising. While this took place, while Quilt thundered at the inner door, and Jack drew back the bolts of the outer, a deep, manly voice was heard chanting — as if in contempt of the general uproar — the following strain : — With pipe and punch upon the board, And smiling nymphs around us ; No tavern could more mirth afford Thau old Saint Giles's roundhouse ! The roundhouse! the roundhouse ' Thejolhj — jolly roundhouse / "The jolly, jolly roundhouse!" chorused Shcppard, as the last bar yielded to his efforts. " Hurrah ! come along, Thames ; we're free." "Not sho fasht — not sho fasht!" cried Abraham, struggling with Thames, and detaining him ; u if you go, you musht take me along vid you." "Save yourself, Jack!" shouted Thames, sinking beneath the superior weight and strength of his opponent ; " leave me to my fate!" " Never," replied Jack, hurrying towards him. And, snatching f the spike from Thames, he struck the janizary a severe blow on the head. " I'll make sure work this time," he added, about to repeat the blow. "Hold!" interposed Thames, "he can do no more mischief. Let us be gone." " As you please," returned Jack, leaping up ; " but I feel devilishly inclined to finish him. However, it would only be robbing the hangman of his dues." With this, he was preparing to follow his friend, when their egress was prevented by the sudden appearance of Jonathan Wild and Blueskin. 128 JACK SHEPPARD. CHAPTER XIII.— THE MAGDALENE. The household of the worthy carpenter, it may he conceived, was thrown into the utmost confusion and distress by the unac- countable disappearance of the two boys. As time wore on, and they did not return, Mr. Wood's anxiety grew so insupportable, that he siizcd his bat with the intention of sallying forth in search of them, though he did not know whither to bend his steps, when his departure was arrested by a gentle knock at the door. "There he is!" cried Winifred, starting up joyfully, and prov- ing by the exclamation drat her thoughts were dwelling upon one subject only. " There he is !" " I fear not," said her father, with a doubtful shake of the head. "Thames would let himself in; and Jack generally finds an entrance through the back-door or the shop-window, when he has been out at untimely hours. But, go and see who it is, love. Stay! I'll go myself." His daughter, however, anticipated him. She flew to the door, but returned the next minute, looking deeply disappointed, and bringing the intelligence that it was " only Mrs. Sheppard." " Who?" almost screamed Mrs. Wood. "Jack Sheppard's mother," answered the little girl, dejectedly; " she has brought a basket of e^crs from Willesden, and some flowers for you." "For me!" vociferated Mrs. Wood, in indignant surprise. "Eggs for me! You mistake, child. They must be for vour father." " No; I'm quite sure she said they're for you," replied Winifred ; "but she elves want to see father." " I thought as much," sneered Mrs. Wood. "I'll go to her directly," said Wood, bustling towards the door. "I dare say she has called to inquire about Jack." "I dare say no such thing," interposed his better half, autho- ritatively; "remain where you are, sir." " At all events, let me send her aw r ay, my dear," supplicated the carpenter, anxious to avert the impending storm. " Do you hear me ?" cried the lady, with increasing vehemence. " Stir a foot at your peril." "But, my love," still remonstrated Wood, "you know I'm going to look after the boys " " After Mrs. Sheppard, you mean, sir," interrupted his wife, ironically. " Don't think to deceive me by your false pretences. Marry, come up ! I'm not so easily deluded. Sit down, I com- mand you. Winny, show the person into this room. I'll see her myself; and that's more than she bargained for, I'll be sworn." Finding it useless to struggle further, Mr. Wood sank sub- missively into a chair, while his daughter hastened to execute her arbitrary parent's commission. THE MAGDALENE. 129 u At length, I have my wish," continued Mrs. Wood, regard- ing her husband with a glance of vindictive triumph. fi I shall behold the shameless hussy, face to face ; and, if I find her as good-looking as she's represented, I don't know what I'll do in the end; but I'll begin by scratching her eyes out." In this temper, it will naturally be imagined that Mrs. Wood's reception of the widow, who at that moment was ushered into the room by Winifred, was not particularly kind and encournging. As she approached, the carpenter's wife eyed her from head to foot, in the hope of finding something in her person or apparel to quarrel with. But she was disappointed. Mrs. Sheppard's dress — extremely neat and clean, but simply fashioned, and of the plainest and most unpretending material — offered nothing assail- able; and her demeanour was so humble, and her looks so modest, that — if she had been ill-looking — she might, possibly, have escaped the shafts of malice preparing to be levelled against her. But, alas ! she was beautiful — and beauty is a crime not to be forgiven by a jealous woman. As the lapse of time and change of circumstances have wrought a remarkable alteration in the appearance of the poor widow, it may not be improper to notice it here. When first brought under consideration, she was a miserable and forlorn object; squalid in attire, haggard in looks, and emaciated in frame. Now, she was the very reverse of all this. Her dress, it has just been said, was neatness and simplicity itself. Her figure, though slight, had all the fulness of health ; and her complexion — still pale, but with- out its former sickly cast, — contrasted agreeably, by its extreme fairness, with the dark brows and darker lashes that shaded eyes which, if they had lost some of their original brilliancy, had gained infinitely more in the soft and chastened lustre that replaced it. One marked difference between the poor outcast, who, oppressed by poverty and stung by shame, had sought temporary relief in the stupefying draught — that worst " medicine of a mind dis- eased" — and those of the same being, freed from her vices, and restored to comfort and contentment, if not to happiness, by a more prosperous course of events, was exhibited in the mouth. For the fresh and feverish hue of lip which years ago charac terised this feature, was now substituted a pure and wholesome bloom, evincing a total change of habits ; and, though the coarse character of the mouth remained in some degree unaltered, it was so modified in expression, that it could no longer be accounted a blemish. In fact, the whole face had undergone a transforna- tion. All its better points were improved, while the less attractive ones (and they were few in comparison) were subdued, or removed. What was yet more worthy of note was, that the widow's countenance had an air of refinement about it, of which it was utterly destitute before, and which seemed to intimate K 130 JACK SHErPARD. that her true position in society was far above that wherein accident had placed her. " Well, Mrs. Sheppard," said the carpenter, advancing to meet her, and trying to look as cheerful and composed as he could ; "what brings you to town, eh? — Nothing amiss, I trust?" " Nothing whatever, sir," answered the widow. " A neighbour offered me a drive to Paddington ; and, as I haven't heard of my son for some time, I couldn't resist the temptation of stepping on to inquire after him, and to thank you for your great goodness to us both. I've brought a little garden-stuff and a few new-laid eggs for you, ma'am," she added, turning to Mrs. Wood, who ap- peared to be collecting her energies for a terrible explosion, " in the hope that they may prove acceptable. Here's a nosegay for you, my love," she continued, opening her basket, and presenting a fragrant bunch of flowers to Winifred, " if your mother will allow me to give it you." " Don't touch it, Winny !" screamed Mrs. Wood, "it may be poisoned." u I'm not afraid, mother," said the little girl, smelling at the bou- quet. "How sweet these roses are ! Shall I put them into water ?" " Put them where they came from," replied Mrs. Wood, severely, " and go to bed." " But, mother, mayn't I sit up to see whether Thames returns?" implored Winifred. " What can it matter to you whether he returns or not, child?" rejoined Mrs. Wood, sharply. "I've spoken. And my word's law — with you, at least," she added, bestowing a cutting glance upon her husband. The little girl uttered no remonstrance; but, replacing the flowers in the basket, burst into tears, and withdrew. Mrs. Sheppard, who witnessed this occurrence with dismay, looked timorously at Wood, in expectation of some hint being given as to the course she had better pursue ; but, receiving none, for the carpenter was too much agitated to attend to her, she ventured to express a fear that she was intruding. "Intruding!" echoed Mrs. Wood; "to be sure you are! I wonder how you dare show your face in this house, hussy ! " " I thought you sent for me, ma'am," replied the widow, humbly. "So I did," retorted Mrs. Wood; "and I did so to see how far your effrontery would carry you." " I'm sure I'm very sorry. I hope I haven't given any unin- tentional offence?" said the widow, again meekly appealing ta Wood. "Don't exchange glances with him under my very nose, woman!" shrieked Mrs. Wood; "I'll not bear it. Look at me, and answer me one question. And, mind! no prevaricating — nothing but the truth will satisfy me." THE MAGDALEXE. 131 Mrs. Sheppard raised her eyes, and fixed them upon her inter- rogator. "Are you not that man's mistress?" demanded Mrs. Wood, with a look meant to reduce her supposed rival to the dust. "I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, ci'icnsoning to her temlpes, but preserving her meek deportment and humble tone. " That's false!" cried Mrs. Wood. "I'm too well acquainted with your pi'oceedings, madam, to believe that. Profligate women are never reclaimed. lie has told me sufficient of you " "My dear," interposed Wood, "for goodness' sake " "I will speak," screamed his wife, totally disregarding the interruption; "I will tell this worthless creature what I know about her, — and what I think of her." "Not now, my love — not now," entreated Wood. "Yes, 11010!" rejoined the infuriated dame; "perhaps I may never have another opportunity. She has contrived to keep out of my sight up to this time, and I've no doubt she'll keep out of it altogether for the future." " That was my doing, dearest," urged the carpenter; " I Avas afraid, if you saw her, that some such scene as this might occur." "Hear me, madam, I beseech you," interposed Mrs. Sheppard. " and, if it please you to visit your indignation on any one, let it be upon me, and not on your excellent husband, whose only fault is in having bestowed his charity upon so unworthy an object as myself." "Unworthy, indeed!" sneered Mrs. Wood. "To him I owe every thing," continued the widow; "life itself — nay, more than life, — for, without his assistance, I should have perished, body and soul. Pie has been a father to me and my child." "I never doubted the latter point, I assure you, madam," observed Mrs. Wood. u You have said," pursued the widow, " that she, who has once ■erred, is irreclaimable. Do not believe it, madam. It is not so. The poor wretch, driven by desperation to the commission of a enme which her soul abhors, is no more be} r ond the hope of reformation than she is without the pale of mercy. I have suffered — I have sinned — I have repented. And, though neither peace nor innocence can be restored to my bosom; though tears cannot blot out my offences, nor sorrow drown my shame; yet, knowing that my penitence is sincere, I do not despair that my transgressions may be forgiven." "Mighty fine!" ejaculated Mrs. Wood, contemptuously. " You cannot understand me, madam ; and it is well you cannot. Blessed with a fond husband, surrounded by every comfort, you have never been assailed by the. horrible temptations to which misery has exposed me. You have never known what it is to 132 JACK SHEPPARD. want food, raiment, shelter. You have never seen the child within your arms perishing from hunger, and no relief to be obtained. You have never felt the hearts of all hardened against you; have never heard the jeer or curse from every lip; nor endured the insult and the blow from every hand. I have suffered all this. I could resist the tempter now. I am strong in health — in mind. But then Oh ! madam, there are moments — moments of darkness, which overshadow a whole existence — in the lives of the poor houseless wretches who traverse the streets, when reason is wellnigh benighted; when the horrible prompt- ings of despair can alone be listened to; and when vice itself assumes the aspect of virtue. Pardon what I have said, madam. I do not desire to extenuate my guilt — far less to defend it; but I would show you, and such as you — who, happily, are exempted from trials like mine — how much misery has to do with crime. And I affirm to you, on my own conviction, that she who falls because she has not strength granted her to struggle with affliction, ■may be reclaimed — may repent, and be forgiven, — even as she whose sins, ' though many, were forgiven her.' " l( It gladdens me to hear you talk thus, Joan," said Wood in a ^oice of much emotion, while his eyes filled with tears, " and more than repays me for all I have done for you." "If professions of repentance constitute a Magdalene, Mrs. Sheppard is one, no doubt," observed Mrs. Wood, ironically; " but I used to think it required something more than mere words to prove that a person's character was abused." " Very right, my love," said Wood, " very sensibly remarked. So it does. But I can speak to that point. Mrs. Sheppard's conduct, from my own personal knowledge, has been unexception- able for the last twelve years. During that period she has been a model of propriety." " Oh! of course," rejoined Mrs. Wood; " I can't for an instant question such disinterested testimony. Mrs. Sheppard, I'm sure, will say as much for you. He's a model of conjugal attachment and fidelity, a pattern to his family, and an example to his neigh- bours. Ain't he, madam?" tt He is, indeed," replied the widow, fervently; " more — much more than that." " He's no such thing!" cried Mrs. Wood, furiously. " He's a base, deceitful, tyrannical, hoary-headed libertine — that's what he is. But, I'll expose him. I'll proclaim his misdoings to the world; and then we shall see where he'll stand. Marry, come up! I'll show him what an injured wife can do. If all wives were of my mind and my spirit, husbands would soon be taught their own insignificance. But a time will come (and that before long) when our sex will assert its superiority ; and, when we have got the upper hand, let 'em try to subdue us if they can. But don't suppose, madam, that any thing I say has reference to you. I'm THE MAGDALENE. 133 speaking of virtuous women — of wives, madam. Mistresses neither deserve consideration nor commiseration." " I expect no commiseration," returned Mrs. Sheppard, gently, "nor do I need any. But, rather than be the cause of any further misunderstanding between you and my benefactor, I will leave London and its neighbourhood for ever." " Pray do so, madam," retorted Mrs. Wood, " and take your son with you." " My son !" echoed the widow, trembling. u Yes, your son, madam. If you can do any good with him, it's more than we can. The house will be well rid of him, for a more idle, good-for-nothing reprobate never crossed its threshold." "Is this true, sir?" cried Mrs. Sheppard, with an agonized look at Wood. " I know you'll not deceive me. Is Jack what Mrs. AVood represents him ?" " He's not exactly what I could desire him to be, Joan," replied the carpenter, reluctantly. tl But a ragged colt sometimes makes the best horse. He'll mend, I hope." " Never," said Mrs. Wood — " he'll never mend. He has taken more than one step towards the gallows already. Thieves and pickpockets are his constant companions." "Thieves!" exclaimed Mrs. Sheppard, horror-stricken. " Jonathan Wild and Blueskin have got him into their hands," continued Mrs. Wood. " Impossible!" exclaimed the widow, wildly. " If you doubt my word, woman," replied the carpenter's wife, coldly, " ask Mr. Wood." " I know you'll contradict it, sir," said the widow, looking at Wood as if she dreaded to have her fears confirmed — " I know you will." " I wish I could, Joan," returned the carpenter, sadly. Mrs. Sheppard let fall her basket. " My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously — M my sen the companion of thieves ! My son in Jonathan Wild's pow^r ! It cannot be." " Why not?" rejoined Mrs. Wood in a taunting tone. "Your son's father was a thief; and Jonathan Wild (unless I'm mis- informed) was his friend — so it's not unnatural he should show 6ome partiality towards Jack." "Jonathan Wild was my husband's bitterest enemy," said Mrs. Sheppard. " He first seduced him from the paths of honesty, and then betrayed him to a shameful death, and he has sworn to do the same thing by my son. Oh, heavens ; that I should have ever indulged a hope of happiness while that terrible man lives!" " Compose yourself, Joan," said Wood ; " all will yet be well." "Oh, no— no!" replied Mrs. Sheppard, distractedly. VV A11 cannot be well, if this is true. Tell me, sir," she added with forced calmness, and grasping Wood's &mi f H wlvit has Jack 1 34 JACK SHEPPARD. done? Tell me in a word, that I may know the worst. I can bear any thing but suspense." " You're agitating yourself unnecessarily, Joan," returned Wood, in a soothing voice. " Jack has been keeping bad com- pany. That's the only fault I know of." "Thank God for that!" ejaculated Mrs. Sheppard, fervently. " Then it is not too late to save him. Where is he, sir? Can I see him?" " No, that you can't," answered Mrs. Wood ; " he has gone out without leave, and has taken Thames Darrell with him. . If I were Mr. Wood, when he does return, I'd send him about his business. I wouldn't keep an apprentice to set my authority at defiance." Mr. Wood's reply, if he intended any, was cut short by a loud knocking at the door. " 'Odd's-my-life ! — what's that?" he cried, greatly alarmed. " It's Jonathan Wild come back, with a troop of constables at his heels, to search the house," rejoined Mrs. Wood in equal trepidation. " We shall all be murdered. Oh ! that Mr. Knee- bone were here to protect me !" " If it is Jonathan," rejoined Wood, " it is very well for Mr, Kneebone he's not here. He'd have enough to do to protect himself, without attending to you. I declare I'm almost afraid to go to the door. Something, I'm convinced, has happened to the boys." " Has Jonathan Wild been here to-day ? " asked Mrs. Shep- pard, anxiously. "To be sure he has!" returned Mrs. Wood; " and Blueskin, too. They're only just gone. Mercy on us — what a clatter !" , she added, as the knocking was repeated more violently than before. While the carpenter irresolutely quitted the room, with a strong presentiment of ill upon his mind, a light quick step was heard descending the stairs, and, before he could call out to prevent it, a man was admitted into the passage. <" Is this Misther Wudd's, my pretty miss?" demanded the rough voice of the Irish watchman. " It is," replied Winifred; " have you brought any tidings of Thames Darrell?" " Troth have I!" replied Terence; " but, bless your angilic face, how did you contrive to guess that ? " u Is he well? — is he safe? — is he coming back?" cried the little girl, disregarding the question. " He's in St. Giles's roundhouse," answered Terence ; " but tell Mr. Wudd I'm here, and have brought him a message from his unlawful son; and don't be detainin' me, my darlin', for there's not a minute to lose if the poor lad's to be rescued from the clutches of that thief and thieftaker o' the wurld, Jonathan Wild." THE MAGDALENE. 135 The carpenter, upon whom no part of this hurried dialogue had been lost, now made his appearance, and having obtained from Terence all the information which that personage could impart respecting the perilous situation of Thames, he declared himself ready to start to Saint Giles's at once, and ran back to the room for his hat and stick ; expressing his firm determination, as he pocketed his constable's staff, with which he thought it expedient to arm himself, of being direfully revenged upon the thieftaker: a determination in which he was strongly encouraged by his wife. Terence, meanwhile, who had followed him, did not remain silent, but recapitulated his story for the benefit of Mrs. Sheppard. The poor widow was thrown into an agony of distress on learning that a robbery had been committed, in which her son (for she could not doubt that Jack was one of the boys) was implicated; nor was her anxiety alleviated by Mrs. Wood, who maintained stoutly, that if Thames had been led to do wrong, it must be through the instrumentality of his worthless companion. " And there you're right, you may dipind, inarm," observed Terence. " Master Thames Ditt — what's his blessed name? — has honesty written in his handsome phiz; but as to his companion, Jack Sheppard I think you call him, he's a born and bred thief. Lord bless you, marm! we sees plenty on 'em in our purfession. Them young prigs is all alike. I seed he was one — and a sharp un, too — at a glance." " Oh ! " exclaimed the widow, covering her face with her hands. "Take a drop of brandy before Ave start, watchman," said "Wood, {louring out a glass of spirit, and presenting it to Terence, who smacked his lips as he disposed of it. " Won't you be per- suaded, Joan?" he added, making a similar offer to Mrs. Sheppard, which she gratefully declined. " If you mean to accompany us, you may need it." " You are very kind, sir," returned the widow, "but I require no support. Kothing stronger than water has passed my lip3 for ■years." "We may believe as much of that as we please, I suppose," .observed the carpenter's wife with a sneer. " Mr. Wood," she continued in an authoritative tone, seeing her husband ready to depart, "one word before you set out. If Jack Sheppard or his mother ever enter this house again, I leave it— that's all. Now, do what you please. You know my fixed determination." Mr. Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hui i ied off. He was followed with equal celerity by Terence and the w idow. Travers- ing what remained of Wych Street at a rapid pace, and speeding along Drury Lane, the trio soon found thems> Ives in Ivendrick Yard. "When they came to the roundhouse, I erry's courage failed him. Such was the terror inspired b} ad's vindictive 136 JACK SHEPPARD. character, that few durst face him who had given him cause for displeasure. Aware that he should incur the thieftaker's bitterest animosity by what he had done, the watchman, whose wrath against Quilt Arnold had evaporated during the walk, thought it more prudent not to hazard a meeting with his master till the 8torm had, in some measure, blown over. Accordingly, having given Wood such directions as he thought necessary for his guid- ance, and received a handsome gratuity in return for his services, he departed. It was not without considerable demur and delay on the part of Sharpies, that the carpenter and his companion could gain ad- mittance to the roundhouse. Reconnoitring them through a small grated loophole, he refused to open the door till they had explained their business. This, Wood, acting upon Terry's Caution, was most unwilling to do; but, finding he had no alter- native, he reluctantly made known his errand, and the bolts were undrawn. Once in, the constable's manner appeared totally changed. He was now as civil as he had just been insolent. Apologising for their detention, he answered the questions put to him respecting the boys, by positively denying that any such pri- soners had been entrusted to his charge, but offered to conduct him to every cell in the building to prove the truth of his assertion. He then barred and double-locked the door, took out the key (a precautionary measure which, with a grim smile, he said he never omitted), thrust it into his vest, and, motioning the couple to follow him, led the way to the inner room. As Wood obeyed, his foot slipped ; and, casting his eyes upon the floor, he perceived it splashed in several places with blood. From the freshness of the stains, which grew more frequent as they approached the adjoin- ing chamber, it was evident some violence had been recently perpetrated, and the carpenter's own blood froze within his veins as he thought, with a thrill of horror, that perhaps on this very spot, not many minutes before his arrival, his adopted son might have been inhumanly butchered. Nor was this impression re- moved as he stole a glance at Mrs. Sheppard, and saw from her terrified look that she had made the same alarming discovery as himself. But it was now too late to turn back, and, nerving him- self for the shock he expected to encounter, he ventured after his conductor. No sooner had they entered the room than Sharpies, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his strata- gem. Vexation at his folly in suffering himself to be thus entrapped, kept Wood for a short time silent. When he could find words, he tried by the most urgent solicitations to prevail upon the constable to let him out. But threats and entreaties — even promises, were ineffectual ; and the unlucky captive, after exhausting his powers of persuasion, was compelled to give up the point. THE MAGDALENE. 137 The room in which he was detained — that lately occupied by the Mohocks, who, it appeared, had been allowed to depart — wa3 calculated to inspire additional apprehension and disgust. Strong- ly impregnated with the mingled odours of tobacco, ale, brandy, and other liquors, the atmosphere was almost stifling. The benches running round the room, though fastened to the walls by iron clamps, had been forcibly wrenched off; while the table, which was similarly secured to the boards, was upset, and its contents- bottles, jugs, glasses, and bowls, were broken and scattered about in all directions. Every thing proclaimed the mischievous propensities of the recent occupants of the chamber. Here lay a heap of knockers of all sizes, from the huge lion's head to the small brass rapper: there, a collection of signboards, with the names and calling of the owners utterly obliterated. On. this side stood the instruments with which the latter piece of pleasantry had been effected — namely, a bucket filled with paint and a brush : on that was erected a trophy, consisting of a watch- man's rattle, a laced hat with the crown knocked out, and its place supplied by a lantern, a campaign wig saturated with punch, a torn steenkirk and ruffles, some halt-dozen staves, and a broken sword. As the carpenter's gaze wandered over this scene of devastation, his attention was drawn by Mrs. Sheppard towards an appalling object in one corner. This was the body of a man, apparently lifeless, and stretched upon a mattress, with his head bound up in a linen cloth, through which the blood had oused. Near the body, which, it will be surmised, was that of Abraham Mendcz, two ruffianly personnges were seated, quietly smoking, and bestowing no sort, of attention upon the new-comers. Their con- versation was conducted in the flash language, and, though unintelligible to Wood, was easily comprehended by his companion, who learnt, to her dismay, that the wounded man had received his hurt from her son, whose courage and dexterity formed the pre- sent subject of their discourse. From other obscure hints dropped by the speakers, Mrs. Sheppard ascertained that Thames Darrel} had been carried off — where she could not make out — by Jonathan Wild and Quilt Arnold; and that Jack had been induced to accompany Blueskin to the Mint. This intelligence, which she instantly communicated to the carpenter, drove him almost frantic. He renewed his supplications to Sharpies, but with no better success than heretofore; and the greater part of the night was yassed by him and the poor widow, whose anxiety, if possible, exceeded his own, in the most miserable state imaginable. At length, about three o'clock, as the first glimmer of dawn became visible through the barred casements of the roundhouse, the rattling of bolts and chains at the outer door told that 6ome one was admitted. Whoever this might be, the visit 6eemed to have some reference to the carpenter, for, shortly 138 JACK SHEPPAKD. afterwards, Sharpies made his appearance, and informed the cap- tives they were free. Without waiting to have the information repeated, Wood rushed forth, determined, as soon as he could procure assistance, to proceed to Jonathan Wild's house in the Old Bailey ; while Mrs. Sheppard, whose maternal fears drew her in another direction, hurried off to the Mint. CHAPTER XIV— THE FLASH KEK In an incredibly short space of time — for her anxiety lent wings to her feet — Mrs. Sheppard reached the debtors' garrison* From a scout stationed at the northern entrance, whom she ad- dressed in the jargon of the place, with which long usage had formerly rendered her familiar, she ascertained that Blueskin, accompanied by a youth, whom she knew by the description must be her son, had arrived there about three hours before, and had proceeded to the Cross Shovels. This was enough for the poor widow. She felt she was now near her boy, and, nothing doubting her ability to rescue him from his perilous situation, she breathed a fervent prayer for his deliverance ; and, bending her steps towards the tavern in question, revolved within her mind, as she walked along, the best means of accomplishing her purpose. Aware of the cunning and desperate characters of the persons with whom she would have to deal — aware, also, that she Avas in a quarter where no laws could be appealed to, nor assistance obtained, she felt the absolute necessity of caution. Accordingly, when she arrived at the Shovels, with which, as an old haunt in her bygone days of wretchedness, she was well acquainted, instead of entering the principal apartment, which she saw at a glance was crowded with company of both sexes, she turned into a small room on the left of the bar, and, as an excuse for so doing, called for something to drink. The drawers at the moment were too busy to attend to her, and she would have seized the opportunity of examining, unperceived, the assemblage within, through a little curtained window that over- looked the adjoining chamber, if an impediment had not existed in the shape of Baptist Kettleby, whose portly person entirely obscured the view. The Master of the Mint, in the exercise of his twofold office of governor and publican, was mounted upon a chair, and holding forth to his guests in a speech, to which Mrs. Sheppard was unwillingly compelled to listen. a Gentlemen of the Mint," said the orator, u when I was first called, some fifty years ago, to the important office I hold, there existed across the water three places of refuge for the oppressed and persecuted debtor." st We know it," cried several voices. THE FLASH KEN. 139 u It happened, gentlemen," pursued the Master, u on a par- ticular occasion, about the time I've mentioned, that the Arch- duke of Alsatia, the Sovereign of the Savoy, and the Satrap of Salisbury Court, met by accident at the Cross Shovels. A jolly night we made of it, as you may suppose ; for four such monarchs don't often come together. Well, while we were smoking our pipes, and quaffing our punch, Alsatia turns to me and says, * Mint,' says he, ' you're well off here.' — ' Pretty well,' says I ; * you're not badly oft* at the Friars for that matter.' — ' Oh ! ves, we are,' says he. — l How so ?' says I. — ' It's all up with us,' says he ; ' they've taken away our charter.' — ' They can't,'' gays I. — > ' They have,' says he. — ' They can't, I tell you,' says I, in a bit of a passion ; ' it's unconstitutional.' — ' Unconstitutional or not/ says Salisbury Court and Savoy, speaking together, * it's true. We shall become a prey to the Philistines, and must turn honest in self-defence.' — k No liar o' that,' thought I. — ' I see how it'll be,' observed Alsatia, ' every body 'Jl pay his debts, and only think of such a slate of things as that.' — ' It's not to bethought of,' says I, thumping the table till every glass on it jingled ; ' and I know a way as '11 prevent it.' — ' What is it, Mint?' asked all three. — ' Why, hang every bailiff that sets a foot in your territo- ries, and you're safe,' says I. — ' We'll do it,' said they, filling their glasses, and looking as fierce as King George's grenadier guards ; ' here's your health, Mint.' But, gentlemen, though they talked so largely, and looked so fiercely, they did not do it ; they did not hang the bailiffs ; and where are they ?" " Ay, where are they?" echoed the company, with indignant derision. " Gentlemen," returned the Master, solemnly, " if is a ques- tion easily answered — they are NOWHERE ! Had they hanged the bailiffs, the bailiffs would not have hanged them. We our- selves have been similarly circumstanced. Attacked by an infa- mous and unconstitutional statute, passetl in the reign of the late usurper, William of Orange (for I may remark, that if the right king had been upon the throne, that illegal enactment would never have received the royal assent — the Stuarts — Heaven preserve 'em ! — always siding with the debtors) ; attacked in this out- rageous manner, I repeat, it has been all but ' up ' with US ! But the vigorous resistance offered on that memorable occasion by the patriotic inhabitants of Bermuda to the aggressions of arbi- trary power, secured and established their privileges on a firmer basis than heretofore ; and while their pusillanimous allies were crushed and annihilated, they became more prosperous than ever. Gentlemen, I am proud to say that / originated — that / directed those measures. I hope to see the day, when not Southwark alone, but London itself, shall become one Mint — when all men shall be- debtors, and none cix-ditors — when imprisonment for d,ebt shall be utterly abolished — when highway robbery shall be 140 JACK SHEPPARD. accounted a pleasant pastime, and forgery an accomplishment — when Tyburn and its gibbets shall be overthrown — capital punishments discontinued — Newgate, Ludgate, the Gatehouse, and the Compters, razed to the ground — Bridewell and Clerken- well destroyed — the Fleet, the King's Bench, and the Marshal* sea, remembered only by name ! But, in the mean time, as that day may possibly be farther off than I anticipate, we are bound to make the most of the present. Take care of yourselves, gentlemen, and your governor will take care of you. Before I sit down I have a toast to propose, which I am sure will be received, as it deserves to be, with enthusiasm. It is the health of a stranger — of Mr. John Sheppard. His father was one of my old customers, and I am happy to find his son treading in his steps. He couldn't be in better hands than those in which he has placed himself. Gentlemen — Mr. Sheppard' s good health, and success to him!" Baptist's toast was received with loud applause, and, as he sat down amid the cheers of the company, and a universal clatter of muo-s and glasses, the widow's view was no longer obstructed. Her eye wandered quickly over that riotous and disorderly assemblage, until it settled upon one group more riotous and dis- orderly than the rest, of which her son formed the principal figure. The agonized mother could scarcely repress a scream at the spec- tacle that met her gaze. There sat Jack, evidently in the last stage of intoxication, with his collar opened, his dress disarranged, a pipe in his mouth, a bowl of punch and a half-emptied rummer before him — there he sat, receiving and returning, or rather attempting to return — for he was almost past consciousness — the blandishments of a couple of females, one of whom had passed her arm round his neck, while the other leaned over the back of his chair, and appeared from her gestures to be whispering soft non- sense into his ear. Both these ladies possessed considerablepersonal attractions. The younger of the two, avIio was seated next to Jack, and seemed to monopolize his attention, could not be more than seventeen, though her person had all the maturity of twenty. She had delicate oval features, light, laughing blue eyes, a pretty nez retrousse, (why- have we not the term, since we have the best specimens of the feature? ) teeth of pearly whiteness, and a brilliant complexion, set off by rich auburn hair, a very white neck and shoulders — the latter, perhaps, a trifle too much exposed. The name of this damsel was Edgeworth Bess; and as her fascinations will not, perhaps, be found to be without some influence upon the future fortunes of her boyish admirer, we have thought it worth while to be thus particular in describing them. The other bona roba, known amongst her companions as Mistress Poll Maggot, was a beauty on a much larger scale — in fact, a perfect Amazon. Nevertheless, though nearly six feet high, and correspondingly THE FLASH KEN. 141 proportioned, she was a model of symmetry, and boasted, with the frame of a Thalestris or a Trulla, the regular lineaments of the Medicean Venus. A man's laced hat — whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state — cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her mas- culine appearance. Mrs. Maggot, as well as her companion Edgeworth Bess, was showily dressed; nor did either of them disdain the aid supposed to be lent to a fair skiu by the contents of the patchbox. On an empty cask, which served him for a chair, and opposite Jack Sheppard, whose rapid progress in depravity afforded him the highest satisfaction, sat Blueskin, encouraging the two women in their odious task, and plying his victim with the glass as often as he deemed it expedient to do so. By this time, he had apparently accomplished all he desired; for moving the bottle out of Jack's reach, lie appropriated it entirely to his own use, leaving the devoted lad to the care of the females. Some few of the individuals seated at the other tables seemed to take an interest in the proceedings of Blueskin and his party, just as a bystander watches any other game; but, generally speaking, the company were too much occupied with their own concerns to pay attention to any thing else. The assemblage was for the most part, if not altogether, composed of persons to whom vice in all its aspects was too familiar to present much of novelty, in whatever form it was exhibited. Nor was Jack by any means the only stripling in the room. Not far from him was a knot of lads drinking, swearing, and playing at dice as eagerly and as skilfully as any of the older hands. Near to these hopeful youths sat a fence, or receiver, bargaining with a clouter, or pickpocket, for a suit — or, to speak in more intelligible language, a watch and seals, two cloaks, commonly called watch-cases, and a icedge-lobb, otherwise known as a silver snuff-box. Next to the receiver was a gang of housebivakers, laughing over their exploits, and planning fresh depredations; and next to the housebreakers came two gallant- looking gentlemen in long periwigs and riding- dresses, and. equipped in all other respects for the road, with a roast fowl and a bottle of wine before them. Amid this varied throng — varied in appearance, but alike in character — one object alone, we have said, riveted Mrs. Sheppard's attention; and no sooner did she in some degree recover from the shock occasioned by the sight of her son's debased condition, than, regardless of any other consi- deration except his instant removal from the contaminating society by which he was surrounded, and utterly forgetting the more cautious plan she meant to have adopted, she rushed into the room, and summoned him to follow her. "Halloa!" cried Jack, looking round, and trying to fix his inebriate gaze upon the speaker — " wlu's that?" " Your mother," replied Mrs. Sheppard. *' Come home di* rectly, sir." 142 JACK SHEPPAR1>. " Mother be !" returned Jack. " Who is it, Bess?" "How should I know?" replied Edgeworth Bess. ''But if it is your mother, send her about her business.''* " That I will," replied Jack, " in the twinkling of a bed-post." " Glad to see you once more in the Mint, Mrs. Shcppard,*' roared Blueskin, who anticipated some fun. " Come and sit down by me." "Take a glass of gin, ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor. I've heard."' "Jack, my love," cried Mrs. Sheppard, disregarding the taunt, .** come away." " Not I," replied Jack; "I'm too comfortable where I am. Be •off!" "Jack !" exclaimed his unhappy parent. "Mr. Sheppard, if you please, ma'am," interrupted the lad; " I ■allow nobody to call me Jack. Do I, Bess, eh?" "Nobody whatever, love," replied Edgeworth Bess; "nobody but me, dear." " And me," insinuated Mrs. Maggot. " My little fancy man's quite as fond of me as of you, Bess. Ain't you, Jacky darling?" " Not quite, Poll," returned Mr. Sheppard; "but I love you next to her, and both of you better than her" pointing with the pipe to his mother. " Oh, heavens!" cried Mrs. Sheppard. "Bravo!" shouted Blueskin. "Tom Sheppard never said a better thing than that — ho ! ho !" " Jack," cried his mother, wringing her hands in distraction, " you'll break my heart !" i • "Poh! Poh!" returned her son; "women don't so easily break their hearts. Do they, Bess?" " Certainly not," replied the young lady appealed to, " espe- cially about their sons." " Wretch!" cried Mrs. Sheppard, bitterly. " I say," retorted Edgeworth Bess, with a very unfeminine im- precation, " I sha'n't stand any more of that nonsense. What do you mean by calling me wretch, madam?" she added, marching up to Mrs. Sheppard, and regarding her with an insolent and threatening glance. "Yes — what do you mean, ma'am?" added Jack, staggering after her. " Come with me, my love, come — come," cried his mother, seizing his hand, and endeavouring to force him away. '< He sha'n't go," cried Edgeworth Bess, holding him by the Other hand. " Here, Poll, help me!" Thus exhorted, Mrs. Maggot lent her powerful aid, and be- tween the two, Jack was speedily relieved from all fears of being carried off against his will. Not content with this exhibition of her prowess, the Amazon lifted him upas easily as if hehad beeu - & <^%a64a4dt dt THE ROBBERY. '143 an infant, and placed him upon her shoulders, to the infinite de- •lio-ht of the company, and the increased distress of his mother. u . Now, let's see who'll dare to take him down," she cried.^ ^ "Nobody shall," cried Mr. Sheppard from his elevated position. " I'm my OAvn master now, and I'll do as I please. I'll turn cracks- man, like my father— rob old Wood— he has chests ftdl of money, and I know where they're kept— I'll rob him, and give the swag to you, Poll — I'll " Jack would have said more; but, losing his balance, he fell to the ground, and, when taken up, he was perfectly insensible. In this state, he was laid upon a bench, to sleep off his drunken fit, while his wretched mother, in spite of her passionate supplica- tions and resistance, was, by Blucskin's command, forcibly ejected from the house, and driven out of the Mint. CHAPTER XV.— THE ROBBERY IN WILLESDEN" CHURCH. During the whole of the next day and night, the poor widow hovered like a ghost about the precincts of the debtors' garrison, — for admission (by the Master's express orders) was denied her. She could learn nothing of her son, and only obtained one solitary piece of information, which added to, rather than alleviated her misery — namely, that Jonathan Wild had paid a secret visit to the Cross Shovels. At one time, she determined to go to Wych Street, and ask Mr. Wood's advice and assistance; but the thought of the reception she was likely to meet with from his wife deterred her from executing this resolution. Many other expedients occurred to her; but, after making several ineffectual .attempts to get into the Mint unobserved, they were all abandoned. At length, about an hour before dawn on the second day — Sunday — having spent the early part of the night in watching at the gates of the robber's sanctuaiy, and being almost exhausted from want of rest, she set out homewards. It was a long walk she had to undertake, even if she had endured no previous fatigue; but, feeble as she was, it was almost more than she could accom- plish. Daybreak found her winding her painful way along the Harrow Road; and, in order to shorten the distance as much aa possible, she took the nearest cut, and struck into the meadows on the right. Crossing several fields, newly mown, or filled with lines of tedded hay, she arrived, not without great exertion, at the summit of a hill. Here her strength completely failed her, and she was compelled to seek some repose. Making her couch upon a heap of hay, she sank at once into a deep and refreshing slumber. When she awoke, the sun was high in heaven. It was a bright and beautiful day; so bright, so beautiful, that even her sad heart 144 JACK SHEPPAKD. was cheered by it. The air, perfumed with the delicious fragrance • f the new-mown grass, was vocal with the melodies of the birds: the thick foliage of the trees was glistening in the sunshine; all nature seemed happy and rejoicing; but, above all, the serene Sabbath stillness reigning around, communicated a calm to her wounded spirit. What a contrast did the lovely scene she now gazed upon present to the squalid neighbourhood she had recently quitted ! On all .sides, expanded prospects of country the most exquisite and most varied. Immediately beneath her lay Willesden — the most charming and secluded village in the neighbourhood of the metropolis — with its scattered farm-houses, its noble granges, and its old grey church tower just peeping above a grove of rook- haunted trees. Towards this spot Mrs. Sheppard now directed her steps. She speedily reached her own abode — a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. The first circumstance that struck her on her arrival seemed ominous. Her clock had stopped — stopped at the very hour on which she had quitted the Mint ! She had not the heart to wind it up again. After partaking of some little refreshment, and changing her .attire, Mrs. Sheppard prepared for church. By this time, she had so far succeeded in calming herself, that she answered the greetings of the neighbours whom she encountered on her way to the sacred edifice — if sorrowfully, still composedly. Every old country church is beautiful, but Willesden is the ■most beautiful country church we know; and in Mrs. Sheppard's time it was even more beautiful than at present, when the hand of improvement has proceeded a little too rashly with alterations and repairs. With one or two exceptions, there were no pews; and, as the intercourse with London was then but slight, the seats were occupied almost exclusively by the villagers. In one of these seats, at the end of the aisle farthest removed from the chancel, the widow took her place, and addressed herself fervently to her devotions. The service had not proceeded far, when she was greatly dis- turbed by the entrance of a person who placed himself opposite her, and sought to attract her attention by a number of little arts, surveying her, as he did so, with a very impudent and offensive stare. With this person — who was no other than Mr. Kneebone — she was too well acquainted; having, more than once, been obliged to repel his advances; and, though his impertinence would have given her little concern at another season, it now added considerably to her distraction. But a far greater affliction was in store for her. Just as the clergyman approached the altar, she perceived a boy steal quickly into the church, and ensconce himself behind the .woollen-draper, who, in order to carry on his amatory pursuits 1 JONATHAN WILD'S HOUSE. 145 with greater convenience, and at the same time display his figure (of which he was not a little vain) to the utmost advantage, pre- ferred a standing to a sitting posture. Of this boy she had only caught a glimpse; — but that glimpse was sufficient to satisfy her it was her son — and, if she could have questioned her own in- stinctive love, she could not question her antipathy, when she beheld, partly concealed by a pillar immediately in the rear of the woollen-draper, the dark figure and truculent features of Jonathan Wild. As she looked in this direction, the thief-taker raised his eyes — those grey, bloodthirsty eyes! — their glare froze the life- blood in her veins. As she averted her gaze, a terrible idea crossed her. Why was he there? why did the tempter dare to invade that sacred spot ? She could not answer her own questions, but vague fearful suspicions passed through her mind. Meanwhile, the service pro- ceeded; and the awful command, " Thou shalt not Meal!" was solemnly uttered by the preacher, when Mrs. Sheppanl, who had again looked round towards her son, beheld a hand glance along the side of the woollen-draper. She could not see what occurred, though she guessed it ; but she saw Jonathan's devilish triumph- ing glance, and read in it — " Your son has committed a robbery — here — in these holy walls — he is mine — mine for ever I " She uttered a loud scream, and fainted. CHAPTER XVI.— JONATHAN WILD'S HOUSE IN THE OLD BAILEY. Just as St. Sepulchre's church struck one, on the eventful night of the 10th of June (to which it will not be necessary to recur), a horseman, mounted on a powerful charger, and followed at a respectful distance by an attendant, galloped into the open space fronting Newgate, and directed his course towards a house in the Old Bailey. Before he could draw in the rein, his steed — startled apparently by some object undistinguishable by the rider, — swerved with such suddenness as to unseat him, and precipitate him on the ground. The next moment, however, he was picked up, and set upon his feet by a person who, having witnessed the. accident, flew across the road to his assistance. "You're not hurt, I hope, Sir Rowland?" inquired this in- dividual. " Not materially, Mr. Wild," replied the other, " a little shaken, that's all. Curses light on the horse !" he added, seizing the bridle of his steed, who continued snorting and shivering, as if still under the influence of some unaccountable alarm ; " what can ail him ?" " / know what ails him, your honour," rejoined the groom, riding up as he spoke ; " he's seen somethin' not o' this world." 14G JACK SHEPPAKD. " Most likely," observed Jonathan, with a slight sneer ; " the :»host of some highwayman who has just breathed his last in Newgate, no doubt." " May be," returned the man gravely. " Take him home, Saunders," said Sir Rowland, resigning his /Unity steed to the attendant's care, " I shall not require you further. Strange!" he added, as the groom departed; " Bay Stuart has carried me through a hundred dangers, but never played me such a trick before." " And never should again, were he mine," rejoined Jonathan. " If the best nag ever foaled were to throw me in this unlucky spot, I'd blow his brains out." " What do you mean, sir?" asked Trenchard. " A fall against Newgate is accounted a sign of death bv the nalter," replied Wild, with ill-disguised malignity. " Tush!" exclaimed Sir Rowland, angrily. u From that dooi*," continued the thief-taker, pointing to the gloomy portal of the prison opposite which they were standing, "' the condemned are taken to Tyburn. It's a bad omen to be mrown near that door." " I didn't suspect you of so much superstition, Mr. Wild," ob- served the knight, contemptuously. " Facts convince the most incredulous," answered Jonathan, drily. " I've known several cases where the ignominious doom I've mentioned has been foretold by such an accident as has just befallen you. Thei*e was Major Price — you must recollect him, Sir Rowland — he stumbled as he was getting out of his chair at that very gate. Well, he was executed for murder. Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. It was a pity he didn't break his neck, for he was hanged within the year. Another instance was that of Toby Tanner — " " No more of this," interrupted Trenchard ; u where is the boy ?" " Not far hence," replied Wild. " After all our pains we wer j near losing him, Sir Rowland." " How so ? " asked the other, distrustfully. " You shall hear," returned Jonathan. "With the help of his comrade, Jack Sheppard, the young rascal made a bold push to Jjet out of the roundhouse, where my janizaries had lodged him, ttnd would have succeeded too, if, by good-luck — for the devil Wiver deserts so useful an agent as I am, Sir Rowland — I hadn't •arrived in time to prevent him. As it was, my oldest and trustiest Better, Abraham Mendez, received a blow on the head from one of the lads that will deprive me of his services for a week to come — if, indeed, it does not disable him altogether. However, if I've lost one servant, I've gained another, that's one coeifort. Jack Sheppard is now wholly in my hands." JONATHAN WILD'S HOUSE. 147 " What is this to me, sir?" said Trenchard cutting him short. " Nothing whatever," rejoined the thief-taker, coldly. " But it is much to me. Jack Sheppard is to me what Thames Darrell is to you — an object of hatred. I owed his father a grudge: that I settled long ago. I owe his mother one, and will repay the' debt, with interest, to her son. 1 could make away with him at once, as you are about to make away with your nephew, Sir Row-\ land — but that wouldn't serve my turn. To be complete, my ven- geance must be tardy. Certain of my prey, I can afford to wait for it. Besides, revenge is sweetened by delay; and I indulge too freely in the passion to rob it of any of its zest. I've watched this lad — this Sheppard — from infancy; and, though I have ap- parently concerned myself little about him, I have never lost sight of my purpose. I have suffered him to be brought up decently — honestly; because I would make his fall the greater, and deepen the wound I meant to inflict upon his mother. From this night I shall pursue a different course; from this night his ruin may be dated. He is in the care of those who will not leave the task assigned to them — the utter perversion of his principles — half- finished. And when 1 have steeped him to the lips in vice, and depra- vity; when I have led him to the commission of every crime ; when there is neither retreat nor advance for him ; when he has plun- dered his benefactor, and broken the heart of his mother — then — but not till then — I will consign him to the fate to which I con- signed his father. This I have sworn to do — this I Avill do." "I\ot unless your skull's bullet-proof,'' cried a voice at his elbow; and, as the words were uttered, a pistol was snapped at his head, which — fortunately, or unfortunately, as the reader pleases — only burnt the priming. The blaze, however, was suffi- cient to reveal to the thief-taker the features of his intended assassin. They Avere those of the Irish watchman. "Ah! Terry O'Flaherty!" vociferated Jonathan, in atone that betrayed not the slightest discomposure. " Ah ! Terry O'Flaherty!" he cried, shouting after the Irishman, Avho took to his heels as soon as he found his murderous attempt unsuccess- ful : " you may run, but you'll not get out of my reach. I'll put a brace of dogs on your track, AA'ho'll soon hunt you doAvn. You 6hall SAA'ing for this after next sessions, or my name's not Jonathan Wild. I told you, Sir Rowland," he added, turning to the knight, and chuckling, " the devil never deserts me." " Conduct me to your dwelling, sir, Avithout further delay," said Trenchard, sternly — " to the boy." " The boy's not at my house," replied Wild. ** Where is he, then?" demanded the other, hastily. "At a place avc call the Dark House at Queenhithe," answered Jonathan, " a sort of underground tavern or night-cellar, close to the river side, and frequented by the crew of the Dutch skipper- 148 JACK S11EPFAUI*. to whose care lie's to be committed. You need have no appre- hensions about him, Sir Rowland, lie's safe enough now. I left him in charge of Quilt Arnold and Rykhart Van Galgebrok — the skipper I spoke of — with strict orders to shoot him if he made any further attempt at escape; and they're not lads — the latter especially — to be trifled with. I deemed it more prudent to send him to the Dark House than to bring him here, in case of any search after him by his adopted father — the carpenter, Wood. If you choose, you can see him put on board the Zeeslang yourself, Sir Rowland. But, perhaps, you'll first accompany me to my dwelling for a moment, that we may arrange our accounts before we start. I've a few necessary directions to leave with my people, to put 'cm on their guard against the chance of a surprise. Suffer me to preeede you. This way, Sir Rowland." The thief-taker's residence was a large dismal-looking habitation, eeparated from the street by a flagged court-yard, and defended from general approach by an iron railing. Even in the daylight it had a sombre and suspicious air, and seemed to slink back from the adjoining houses, as if afraid of their society. In the obscurity in which it was now seen, it looked like a prison, and, indeed, it was Jonathan's fancy to make it resemble one as much as possible. The windows were grated, the doors barred ; each room had the name as well as the appearance of a cell ; and the very porter who stood at the gate, habited like a jailer, with his huge bunch of keys at his girdle, his forbidding countenance and surly de- meanour, seemed to be borrowed from Newgate. The clanking of chains, the grating of locks, and the rumbling of bolts must have been music in Jonathan's ears, so much pains did he take to subject himself to such sounds. The scanty furniture of the rooms corresponded with their dungeon-like aspect. The walls were bare, and painted in stone-colour; the floors, devoid of carpet ; the beds, of hangings ; the windows, of blinds ; and ? excepting in the thief-taker's own audience-chamber, there was not a chair or a table about the premises ; the place of these con- veniences being elsewhere supplied by benches, and deal-boards laid across joint-stools. Great stone staircases leading no one knew whither, and long gloomy passages, impressed the occasional visiter with the idea that he was traversing a building of vast extent ; and, though this was not the case in reality, the deception was so cleverly contrived that it seldom failed of producing the intended effect. Scarcely any one entered Mr. Wild's dwelling without apprehension, or quitted it without satisfaction. More strange stories were told of it than of any other house in London. The garrets were said to be tenanted by coiners, and artists em- ployed in altering watches and jewellery ; the cellars to be used as a magazine for stolen goods. By some it was affirmed that a subterranean communication existed between the thief-taker's abode and Newgate, by means of which he was enabled to main- JONATHAN WILD'S HOUSE. 149 tain a secret correspondence with the imprisoned felons : by others, that an underground passage led to extensive raults, where such malefactors as he chose to screen from justice might lie concealed till the danger was blown over. Nothing, in short, was too extravagant to be related of it ; and Jonathan, who delighted in investing himself and his residence with mystery, encouraged, and perhaps originated, these marvellous tales. However this may be, such was the ill report of the place that few passed along the Old Bailey without bestowing a glance of fearful curiosity at its dingy Avails, and wondering what was going on inside them ; while fewer still, of those who paused at the door, read, without some internal trepidation, the formidable name — inscribed in large letters on its bright brass-plate — of JONATHAN WILD. Arrived at his habitation, Jonathan knocked in a peculiar manner at the door, which was instantly opened by the grim- visaged porter just alluded to. No sooner had Trenchard crossed the threshold than a fierce barking was heard at the farther ex- tremity of the passage, and, the next moment, a couple of mastiffs of the largest size rushed furiously towards him. The knight stood upon his defence; but he would unquestionably have been torn in pieces by the savage hounds, if a shower of oaths, seconded by a vigorous application of kicks and blows from their master, had not driven them growling off. Apologizing to Sir Rowland for this unpleasant reception, and swearing lustily at his servant for occasioning it by leaving the dogs at liberty, Jonathan ordered the man to light them to the audience-room. The command wad sullenly obeyed, for the fellow did not appear to relish the rating. Ascending the stairs, and conducting them along a sombre gallery, in which Trenchard noticed that every door was painted black and numbered, he stopped at the entrance of a chamber; and, selecting a key from the bunch at his girdle, unlocked it. Follow- ing his guide, Sir Rowland found himself in a large and lofty apartment, the extent of which he could not entirely discern until lights were set upon the table. He then looked around him with some curiosity; and, as the thief-taker was occupied in giving directions to his attendant in an undertone, ample leisure was allowed him for investigation. At the first glance, he imagined he must have stumbled upon a museum of rarities, there were so many glass cases, so many open cabinets, ranged against the walls; but the next convinced him that if Jonathan was a virtuoso, his tastes did not run in the ordinary channels. Trenchard was tempted to examine the contents of some of these cases, but a closer inspection made him recoil from them in disgust. In the one he approached was gathered together a vast assortment of weapons, each of which, as appeared from the ticket attached to it, had been used as an instrument of destruction. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade 150 .1ACK SHEPPARD. notched, the haft crusted with blood : on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. As it is not, however, our intention to furnish a complete catalogue of these curiosities, we shall merely mention that in front of them lay a large and sharp knife, once the property of the public executioner, and used by him to dissever the limbs of those condemned to death for high-treason; together with an immense two-pronged flesh-fork, likewise employed by the same terrible functionary to plunge the quarters of his victims in the caldrons of boiling tar and oil. Every gibbet at Tyburn and Hounslow appeared to have been plundered of its charnel spoil to enrich the adjoining cabinet, so well Avas it stored with skulls and bones, all purporting to be the relics of highwaymen famous in their da v. Halters, each of which had fulfilled its destiny, formed the attraction of the next compartment; while a fourth was occupied by an array of implements of housebreaking almost in- numerable, and utterly indescribable. All these interesting objects were carefully arranged, classed, and, as we have said, labelled by the thief-taker. From this singular collection Trenchard turned to regard its possessor, who was standing at a little distance from him, still engaged in earnest discourse with his attendant, and, as he con- templated his ruthless countenance, on which duplicity and malignity had set their strongest seals, he could not help calling to mind all he had heard of Jonathan's perfidiousness to his employers, and deeply regretting that he had placed himself in the power of so unscrupulous a miscreant. Jonathan Wild, at this time, was on the high-road to the great- ness which he subsequently, and not long afterwards obtained. He was fast rising to an eminence that no one of his nefarious profession ever reached before him, nor, it is to be hoped, will ever reach again. He was the Napoleon of knavery, and esta- blished an uncontrolled empire over all the practitioners of crime. This was no light conquest; nor was it a government easily maintained. Resolution, severity, subtlety, were required for it; and these were qualities which Jonathan possessed in an extra- ordinary degree. The danger or difficulty of an exploit never appalled him. What his head conceived his hand executed. Professing to stand between the robber and the robbed, he him- self plundered both. He it was who formed the grand design of a robber corporation, of which he should be the sole head and director, with the right of delivering those who concealed their booty, or refused to share it with him, to the gallows. He divided London into districts; appointed a gang to each district ; and a leader to each gang, Avhom he held responsible to himself. The country was partitioned m a similar manner. Those whom he retained about his person, or placed in offices of trust, were for the most part convicted felons, who, having returned from trans- JONATHAN WILD S HOUSE. 151 portation before their term had expired, constituted, in his opinion, the safest agents, inasmuch as they could neither be legal evidences against him, nor withhold any portion of the spoil of which he chose to deprive them. But the crowning glory of Jonathan, that which raised him above all his predecessors in iniquity, and clothed his name with undying notoriety — was to come ; when, in the plenitude of his power, he commenced a terrible trade, till then unknown — namely, a traffic in human blood. This he carried on by procuring witnesses to swear away the lives of those persons who had incurred his displeasure, or whom it might be necessary to remove. No wonder that Trenchard, as he gazed at this fearful being, should have some misgivings cross him. Apparently Jonathan perceived he was an object of scrutiny; for, hastily dismissing his attendant, he walked towards the knight. t{ So, you're admiring my cabinet, Sir Rowland," he remarked, with a sinister smile; "it is generally admired; and, sometimes by parties who afterwards contribute to the collection themselves, — ha ! ha ! This skull," he added, pointing to a fragment of mortality in the case beside them, " once belonged to Tom Shep- pard, the father of the lad I spoke of just now. In the next box hangs the rope by wHch he suffered. When I've placed another skull and another halter beside them, I shall be contented." "To business, sir!" said the knight, with a look of abhor- rence. "Ay, to business,' returned Jonathan, grinning, "the sooner the better." " Hero is the sum you bargained for," rejoined Trenchard, flinging a pocket-book on the table ; " count it." Jonathans eyes glistened as he told over the notes. " You've given me more than the amount, Sir Rowland/' he said, after he had twice counted them, " or I've missed my reck- oning. There's a hundred pounds too much." " Keep it," said Trenchard, haughtily. " 1*11 place it to your account, Sir Rowland," answered the thief-taker, smiling significantly. " And now, shall we proceed to Quecnhithe?" " Stay !" cried the other, taking a chair, " a word with you, Mr. Wild." " As many as you please, Sir Rowland," replied Jonathan, re- suming his seat. " I'm quite at your disposal." " I have a question to propose to you," said Trenchard, " re- lating to " and he hesitated. " Relating to the father of the boy — Thames Darrell," replied Jonathan. " I guessed Avhat was coming. You desire to know who he was, Sir Rowland. Well, you shall know." Without further fee?" inquired the knight. "Not exactly," answered Jonathan, drily. "A secret is too 152 JACK SHEPPARD. valuable a commodity to be thrown away. But I said I wouldn't drive a hard bargain with you, and I won't. We are alone, Sir Rowland," he added, snuffing the candles, glancing cautiously around, and lowering his tone, " and what you confide to me shall never transpire — at least to your disadvantage." " I am at a loss to understand you, sir," said Trenchard. "I'll make myself intelligible before I've done," rejoined Wild. " I need not remind you, Sir Rowland, that I am aware you are deeply implicated in the Jabobite plot which is now known to be hatching." " Ha!" ejaculated the other. " Of course, therefore," pursued Jonathan, "you are acquainted with all the leaders of the proposed insurrection — nay, must be in correspondence with them." "What right have you to suppose this, sir?" demanded Trenchard, sternly. " Have a moment's patience, Sir Rowland," returned Wild; " and you shall hear. If you will furnish me with a list of these rebels, and with proofs of their treason, I will not only insure your safety, but will acquaint you with the real name and rank of your sister Aliva's husband, as well as with some particulars which will never otherwise reach your ears, concerning your lost sister, Constance." " My sister Constance !" echoed the knight; " what of her?" "You agree to my proposal, then?" said Jonathan. " Do you take me for as great a villain as yourself, sir ?" said the knight, rising. " I took you for one who wouldn't hesitate to avail himself of any advantage chance might throw in his way," returned the thief- taker, coldly. " 1 find 1 was in error. No matter. A time may come — and that erelong — when you will be glad to purchase my secrets, and your own safety, at a dearer price than the heads of your companions." " Are you ready?" said Trenchard, striding towards the door. " I am," replied Jonathan, following him ; " and so," he added In an undertone, " are your captors." A moment afterwards, they quitted the house. CHAPTER XVII.— THE NIGHT CELLAR. After a few minutes' rapid walking, during which neither party uttered a word, Jonathan Wild and his companion had passed Saint Paul's, dived down a thoroughfare on the right, and reached Thames-street. At the period of this history, the main streets of the metropolis were but imperfectly lighted, while the less frequented avenues THE NIGHT-CF.LLAR. 153 were left in total obscurity ; but, even at the present time, the maze of courts and alleys into which Wild now plunged, would have perplexed any one, not familiar with their intricacies, to thread them on a dark night. Jonathan, however, was well acquainted with the road. Indeed, it was his boast that he could find his way through any part of London blind- folded ; and by this time, it would seem, he had nearly arrived at his destination ; for, grasping his companion's arm, he led him along a narrow entry which did not appear to have an outlet, and came to a hair. Cautioning the knight, if lie valued his neck, to tread carefully, Jonathan then descended a steep flight of steps ; and, having reached the bottom in safety, he pushed open a door, that swung back on its hinges as soon as it had admitted him, and, followed by Trenchard, entered the night- cellar. The vault in whi'oh Sir Rowland found himself, resembled in some measure the cabin of a ship. It was long and narrow, with a ceiling supported by huge uncovered rafters, and so low- as scarcely to allow a tall man like himself to stand erect beneath it. Notwithstanding the heat of the season — which was not, however, found particularly inconvenient in this subterranean region — a large heaped-up lire blazed ruddily in one corner, and lighted up a circle of as villanous countenances as ever flame shone upon. The guests congregated within the night-cellar were, in fact, little better than thieves; but thieves who confined their depredations almost exclusively to the vessels lying in the pool and docks of the river. They had as many designations as grades. There were game watermen and game lightermen, heavy horsemen and light horsemen, scuffle-hunters and long apron-men, lumpers, journey- men coopers, mud-larks, badgers, and rat-catchers — a race of dan- gerous vermin, recently, in a great measure, extirpated by the vigilance of the Thames Police, but at this period flourishing in vast numbers. Besides these plunderers, there were others, with whom the disposal of their pillage necessarily brought them into contact, and who seldom failed to attend them during their hours of relaxation and festivity ; — to wit, dealers in junk, old rags and marine stores, purchasers of prize-money, crimps, and Jew receivers. The latter formed by far the most knavish-looking and unprepossessing portion of the assemblage. One or two of the tables were occupied by groups of fat, frowsy women, in flat caps, with rings on their thumbs, and baskets by their sides ; and no one who had listened for a single moment to their coarse lan- guage and violent abuse of each other, would require to be told they were fishwives from Billingsgate. The present divinity of the cellar was a comely, middle-aged dame, almost as stout and quite as shrill-voiced as the Billings- gate fishwives above mentioned. Mrs. Spurling, for so was she 154 .TACK SIIEPPAKD. named, had a warm nut-brown complexion, almost as dark as a Creole ; and a mustache on her upper lip that would have done no discredit to the oldest dragoon in the King's service. This ladv was singularly lucky in her matrimonial connections. She had been married four times : three of her husbands died of hempen fevers ; and the fourth, having been twice condemned, was saved from the noose by Jonathan Wild, who not only managed to bring him off, but to obtain for him the situation of under-turnkey in Newgate. On the appearance of the thief-taker, Mrs. Spurling was stand- ing near the fire superintending some culinary preparation ; but she no sooner perceived him, than hastily quitting her occupation, she elbowed a way for him and the knight through the crowd, and ushered them with much ceremony into an inner room, where they found the objects of their search, Quilt Arnold and Rykhart Van Galgebrok, seated at a small table, quietly smoking. This service rendered, without waiting for any further orders, she withdrew. Both the janizary and the skipper arose as the others entered the room. " This is the gentleman," observed Jonathan, introducing Trenchard to the Hollander, " who is about to intrust his young relation to your care." u De gentleman may rely on my showing his relation all de attention in my power," replied Van Galgebrok, bowing profound- ly to the knight; " but if any unforeseen accident — such as a slip overboard — should befall de jonker on de voyage, he mushn't lay de fault entirely on my shoulders — haw ! haw !" "Where is he?" asked Sir Rowland, glancing uneasily around, ■ L do not see him." <,; De jonker; he 's here," returned the skipper, pointing sig- ,per. u And the rings ? " "Ja." " That 's well. You must dispose of the goldsmith's note I gave you yesterday, as soon as you arrive at Rotterdam. It'll be advertised to-morrow." "De duivel !" exclaimed Van Galgebrok. "Very well. It shall be done as you direct. But about that jonker," he conti- nued, lowering his voice; "have you any thing to add consarnin' him ? It's almosht a pity to put him onder de water." " Is the sloop ready to sail ?" asked Wild, without noticing the skippers remark. '' Ja," answered Van ; "at a minut's nodish." " Here are your despatches," said Jonathan, with a significant look, and giving him a sealed packet. " Open them when you get on board — not before, and act as they direct you." " I ondershtand," replied the skipper, putting his finger to his nose ; " it shall be done." "Sir Rowland," said Jonathan, turning to the knight, "will it please you to remain here till I return, or will you accompany us V" " I will go with you," answered Trenchard, who, by this time, had regained his composure, and with it all his relentlessness of purpose. " Come, then," said Wild, marching towards the door, " we've no time to lose." Quitting the night-cellar, the trio soon arrived at the river-side. Quilt Arnold was stationed at the stair-head, near which the boat containing the captive boy was moored. A few words passed be- tween him and the thief-taker as the latter came up; alter which, all the party — with the exception of Quilt, who was left on shore — embarked within the wherry, which was pushed from the strand and rowed swiftly along the stream — for the tide was in its favour — by a couple of watermen. Though scarcely two hours past midnight, it was perfectly light. The moon had arisen, and every thing could be as plainly distinguished as during the day. A thin mist lay on the river, giving the few craft moving about in it a ghostly look. As they approached London Bridge, the thief-taker whispered Van Galgebrok, who acted as steersman, to make for a particular arch — near the Surrey shore. The skipper obeyed, and in another moment they swept through the narrow lock. While the watermen were contending with the eddies occasioned by the fall below the bridge, Jonathan observed a perceptible shudder run through Trenchard's frame. "You remember that starling, Sir Rowland," he said malicious- ly, "and what occurred on it twelve years ago ?" " Too well," answered the knight, frowning. "Ah ! what is THE NIGHT-CELLAK. 1">7 that"?'' he cried, pointing to a dark object floating near them amid the boiling waves, and which presented a frightful lesem- blance to a human face. " We'll see," returned the thief-taker. And, stretching out hia hand, he lifted the dark object from the flood. It proved to be a human head, though with scarcely a vestige of the features remaining. Here and there, patches of flesh adhered to the bones, and the dank dripping hair hanging about what once had been the face, gave it a ghastly appearance. " It's the skull of a rebH" said Jonathan, with marked emphasis on the word, " blown by the wind from a spike on the bridge above us. I don't know whose brainless head it may be, but it'll do for my collection." And he tossed it carelessly into the bottom of the boat, After this occurrence, not a word was exchanged between them until they came in sight of the sloop, which was lying at anchor off Wapping. Arrived at her side, it was soon evident, from the throng of seamen in Dutch dresses that displayed themselves, that her crew were on the alert, and a rope having been thrown down to the skipper, he speedily hoisted himself on deck. Preparations were next made for taking Thames on board. Raising him in his arms, Jonathan passed the rope round his body, and in this way the poor boy was drawn up without difficulty. While he was swinging in mid-air, Thames regarded his uncle with a stern look, and cried in a menacing voice, " We shall meet again." "Not in this world," returned Jonathan. " Weigh anchor, Van ! " he shouted to the skipper, " and consult your despatches."' " Ja— ja," returned the Hollander. And, catching hold of Thames, he quitted the deck. Shortly afterwards, he reappeared with the information that the captive was safe below ; and, giving the necessary directions- to his crew, before many minutes had elapsed the Zeestamj spread her canvass to the first breeze of morning. 13y the thief-taker's command, the boat was then rowed toward a muddy inlet, which has received in more recent times the name of Execution Dock. As soon as she reached this spot, Wild sprang ashore, and was joined by several persons — among whom was Quilt Arnold, leading a horse by the bridle — he hastened down the stairs to meet him. A coach was also in attendance,. at a little distance. Sir Rowland, who had continued absorbed in thought, with his eyes fixed upon the sloop as she made her way slowly down the river, disembarked more leisurely. " At length I am my own master," murmured the knight, as his foot touched the strand. " Not so, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan ; " you are my. prisoner." 158 JACK SHEPPARD. '• How!" ejaculated Trenchard, starting back, and drawing hif sword. sl You are arrested for high treason," rejoined Wild, presenting a pistol at his head, while he drew forth a parchment — " here is my warrant." " Traitor!" cried Sir Rowland — "damned, double-dyed traitor." " Away \\ith him," vociferated Jonathan to his myrmidons, who, having surrounded Trenchard, hurried him off to the coach before he could utter another word — u first to Mr. Walpole, and then to Newgate. And now, Quilt," he continued, addressing the janizary, who approached him with the horse, " fly to Saint Giles's roundhouse, and if, through the agency of that treache- rous scoundrel, Terry O'Flaherty, whom I've put in my Black List, old Wood should have found his way there, and have been detained by Sharpies, as I directed, you may release him. I don't care how soon he learns that he has lost his adopted son. When I've escorted yon proud fool to his new quarters, I'll proceed to the Mint, and look after Jack Sheppard." With this, he mounted his steed and rode off. CHAPTER XVIII.— HOW JACK SHEPPARD BROKE OUT OF THE CAGE AT WILLESDEN. The heart-piercing scream uttered by Mrs. Sheppard after the commission of the robbery in Willesden church, was productive of unfortunate consequences to her son. Luckily she was bereft of consciousness, and was thus spared the additional misery of witnessing what afterwards befell him. Startled by the cry, as may be supposed, the attention of the whole congregation was drawn towards the quarter whence it proceeded. Amongst others, a person near the door, roused by the shriek, observed a man make his exit with the utmost precipitation. A boy attempted to follow; but, as the suspicions of the lookers-on were roused by the previous circumstances, the younger fugitive was seized and detained. Meanwhile, Mr. Kneebone, having been alarmed by something in the widow's look before her feelings found vent in the manner above described, thrust his hand instinctively into his coat in search of his pocket-book — about the security of which, as it contained several letters and docu- ments implicating himself and others in the Jacobite plot, he was, not unnaturally, solicitous — and, finding it gone, he felt cer- tain he had been robbed. Turning quickly round, in the hope of discovering the thief, he was no less surprised than distressed — for, in spite of his faults, the woollen-draper was a good-natured fellow — to perceive Jack Sheppard in custody. The truth at once flashed across his mind. This, then, was the cause of the widow's wild inexplicable look— of her sudden shriek ! Explaining THE CAGE AT WILLESDEX. 159 his suspicions in a whisper to Jack's captor, who proved to be a churchwarden and a constable, by name John Dump — Mr. Knee- bone begged him to take the prisoner into the churchyard. Dump instantly complied, and as soon as Jack was removed from the sacred edifice, his person was searched from head to foot — but without success. Jack submitted to this scrutiny with a very bad grace, and vehemently protested his innocence. In vain did the woollen-draper offer to set him free if he would restore the stolen article, or give up his associate, to whom it was supposed he might have handed it. He answered with the greatest assu- rance, that he knew nothing whatever of the matter — had seen no pocket-book, and no associate to give up. Nor did he content himself with declaring his guiltlessness of the crime imputed to him, but began in his turn to menace his captor and accuser, loading the latter with the bitterest upbraidings. By this time, the churchyard was crowded with spectators, some of whom dis- persed in different directions in quest of the other robber. But all that could be ascertained in the village was, that a man had ridden off a short time before in the direction of London. Of this man Kneebone resolved to go m pursuit ; and leaving Jack in charge of the constable, he proceeded to the small inn — which bore then, as it bears now, the name of the Six Bells — where, summoning the hostler, his steed was instantly brought him, and, springing on its back, he rode away at full speed. Meanwhile, after a consultation between Mr. Dump and the village authorities, it was agreed to lock up the prisoner in the cage. As he was conveyed thither, an incident occurred that produced a considerable impression on the feelings of the youth- ful offender. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard — where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves — a momentary stoppage took place. At this gate two paths met. Down that on the right the young culprit was dragged — along that on the left a fainting woman was borne in the arms of several females. It was his mother, and, as he gazed on her pallid features and motionless frame, Jack's heart severely smote him. He urged his conductors to a quicker pace to get out of sight of the distressing spectacle, and even felt relieved when he was shut out from it and the execrations of the mob by the walls of the little prison. The cage at Willesden was, and is — for it is still standing — a small round building about eight feet high, with a pointed tiled l'oof, to which a number of boards, inscribed with the names of the parish oiheers, and charged with a multitude of admonitory notices to vagrants and other disorderly persons, are attached. Over these boards the two arms of a guide-post serve to direct the wayfaircr — on the right hand to the neighbouring villages of Ncasdon and Kingsbury, and on the left to the Edgeware Road, and the healthy heights of Hampstcad. The cage has a strong 160 JACK SHEPPARD. door, with an iron grating at the top, and further secured by a stout bolt and padlock. It is picturesquely situated beneath a tree on the high-road, not far from the little hostel before men- tioned, and at no great distance from the church. For some time after he was locked up in this prison, Jack con- tinued in a very dejected state. Deserted by his older companion in iniquity, and instigator to crime, he did not know what might become of him ; nor, as we have observed, was the sad spectacle he had just witnessed, without effect. Though within the last two days he had committed several heinous offences, and one of a darker dye than any with which the reader has been made acquainted, his breast was not yet so callous as to be wholly insensible to the stings of conscience. Wearied at length with thinking on the past, and terrified by the prospect of the future, he threw himself on the straw with which the cage was littered, and endeavoured to compose himself to slumber. When he awoke, it was late in the day ; but though he heard voices out- side, and now and then caught a glimpse of a face peeping at him through the iron grating over the door, no one entered the prison, or held any communication with him. Feeling rather exhausted, it occurred to him that possibly some provisions might have been left by the constable ; and, looking about, he perceived a pitcher of water and a small brown loaf on the floor, lie ate of the bread with great appetite, and having drunk as much as he chose of the water, poured the rest on the floor. His hunger satisfied, his spirits began to revive, and with this change of mood all his natu- ral audacity returned. And here he was first visited by that genius which, in his subsequent career, prompted him to so many bold and successful attempts. Glancing around his prison, he began to think it possible he might effect an escape from it. The door was too strong, and too well secured, to break open — the walls too thick ; but the ceiling — if he could reach it — there, he doubted not, he could make an outlet. While he was meditating flight in this way, and tossing about on the straw, he chanced upon an old broken and rusty fork. Here was an instrument which might be of the greatest service to him in accomplishing his design. He put it carefully aside, resolved to defer the attempt till night. Time wore on somewhat slowly with the prisoner, who had to control his impatience in the best way he could; but as the shades of evening Avere darkening, the door was unlocked, and Mr. Dump popped his head into the cage. He brought another small loafj and a can with which he replenished the pitcher, recom- mending Jack to be careful, as he would get nothing further till morning. To this Jack replied, that he should be perfectly con- tented, provided he might have a small allowance of gin. The latter request, though treated with supreme contempt by Mr. Dump, made an impression on some one outside ; lor not long after the constable departed, Jack heard a tap at the doo^ 5Wo«, (svwtoiwvi-ty- • • THE CAGE AT WILLKSDEN. 161 and getting up at the summons, he perceived the tube of a pipe inserted between the bars. At once divining the meaning of this ingenious device, he applied his mouth to the tube, and sucked away, while the person outside poured spirit into the bowl. Having drunk as much as he thought prudent, and thanked his unknown friend for his attention, Jack again lay down on the straw, and indulged himself with another nap, intending to get up as soon as it was perfectly dark. The strong potation he had taken, combined with the fatigue and anxiety he had previously undergone, made him oversleep himself, and when he awoke it was just beginning to grow light. Cursing himself for his inertness, Jack soon shook off his drowsiness, and set to work in earnest. Availing himself of certain inequalities in the door, he soon managed to climb up to the roof; and, securing his feet against a slight projection in the wall, began to use the fork with great effect. Before many minutes elapsed, he had picked a large hole in the plaster, which showered down in a cloud of dust ; and breaking oil several laths, caught hold of a beam, by which he held with one hand, until with the other he succeeded, not with- out some difficulty, in forcing out one of the tiles. The rest was easy. In a few minutes more he had made a breach in the roof wide enough to allow him to pass through. Emerging from this aperture, he was about to descend, when he was alarmed by hear- ing the tramp of horses' feet swiftly approaching, and had only time to hide himself behind one of the largest signboards before alluded to, when two horsemen rude up. Instead of passing on, as Jack expected, these persons stopped opposite the cage, when one of them, as he judged from the sound, for he did not dare to look out of his hiding-place, dismounted. A noise was next heard, as if some instrument Avcrc applied to the door with the intent to force it open, and Jack's tears were at once dispelled. At first, he had imagined they were officers of justice, come to convey him to a stronger prison ; but the voice of one of the par- ties, which he recognised, convinced him they were his friends. " Look quick, Blueskin, and be cursed to you!" was growled in the deep tones of Jonathan Wild. "We shall have the whole village upon us while you're striking the jigger. Use the gilt, man !" " There's no need of picklock or crowbar here, Mr. Wild," cried Jack, placing his hat on the right arm of the guide-post, and leaning over the board, u I've done the trick myself." " Why, what the devil's this?" vociferated Jonathan, looking up. " Have you broken out of the cage, Jack?" " Something like it," replied the lad, carelessly. " Bravo !" cried the thief-taker, approvingly. u Well, that beats all I ever heard of!" roared Blueskin. u But are you really there?" " No, I'm here," answered Jack, leaping down. u I tell yoi? M 162 JACK SHEPPARD. what, Mr. Wild," he added, laughing, " it must be a stronger prison than Willesden cage that can hold me."_ u Ay, ay," observed Jonathan, " you'll give the keepers of his Majesty's jails some trouble before you're many years older, I'll warrant you. But, get up behind Blueskin. Some one may observe us." " Come, jump up," cried Blueskin, mounting his steed, " and ' I'll soon wisk you to town. Edgeworth Bess and Poll Maggot . are dying to see you. I thought Bess would, have cried her pretty eyes out when she heard you was nabbed. You need give yourself no more concern about Kneebone. Mr. Wild has done his business." " Ay — ay," laughed Jonathan. " The pocket-book you prig- ged contained the letters I wanted. He's now in spring-ankle warehouse with Sir Rowland Trenchard. So get up, and let's be off." " Before I leave this place, I must see my mother." " Nonsense," returned Jonathan, gruffly. " Would you ex- pose yourself to fresh risk? If it hadn't been for her you -wouldn't have been placed in your late jeopardy." " I don't care for that," replied Jack. " See her I will. Leave me behind : I'm not afraid. I'll be at the Cross Shovels in the course of the day." u Kay, if you're bent upon this folly," observed Wild, who appeared to have his own reasons for humouring the lad, u I sha'n't hinder you. Blueskin will take care of the horses, and I'll go with you." So saying, he dismounted ; and flinging his bridle to his com- panion, and ordering him to ride off to a little distance, he fol- lowed Jack, who had quitted the main road, and struck into a narrow path opposite the cage. This path, bordered on each side by high privet hedges of the most beautiful green, soon brought them to a stile. " There's the house," said Jack, pointing to a pretty cottage, the small wooden porch of which was covered with roses and. creepers, with a little trim garden in front of it. " I'll be back in a minute." " Don't hurry yourself," said Jonathan, " I'll wait for you here." CHAPTER XIX.— GOOD AND EVIL. As Jack opened the gate, and crossed the little garden, which exhibited in every part the neatness and attention of its owner, he almost trembled at the idea of further disturbing her peace of mind. Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could lUrrti (mok^kajJo GOOD AND EVIL. 163 just be seen through the trees. The rooks were cawing amid the boughs, and all nature appeared awaking to happiness. From this peaceful scene Jack's eye fell upon Jonathan, who, seated upon the stile, under the shade of an elder-tree, was evidently watching him. A sarcastic smile scorned to play upon the thief- taker's lips; and, abashed at his own irresolution, the lad went on. After knocking for some time at the door without effect, he tried the latch, and to his surprise found it open. lie stepped in with a heavy foreboding of calamity. A cat came and rubbed herself against him as he entered the house, and seemed by her mewing to ask him for food. That was the only sound he heard. Jack was almost afraid of speaking; but at length he summoned courage to call out " Mother !" " Who's there'?" asked a faint voice from the bed. " Your son," answered the boy. "Jack !" exclaimed the widow, starting up and drawing back the curtain. rt Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" " You're not dreaming, mother," he answered. " I'm come to eay good-bye to you, and to assure you of my safety before I leave this place." u Where are you going?" asked his mother. " I hardly know," returned Jack ; " but it's not safe for me to remain much longer here." " True," replied the widow, upon whom all the terrible recol- lections of the day before crowded, " I know it isn't. I won't keep you long. But, tell me, how have you escaped from the confine- ment in which you were placed — come and sit by me — here — upon the bed — give me your hand — and tell me all about it." Her son complied, and sat down upon the patchwork coverlet beside her. " Jack," said Mrs. Sheppard, clasping him with a hand that burnt with fever, " I have been ill — dreadfully ill — I believe de- lirious — I thought I should have died last night — I won't tell you what agony you have caused me — I won't reproach you. Only promise me to amend — to quit your vile companions — and I will forgive you — will bless you. Oh ! my dear, dear son, be warned in time. You are in the hands of a wicked, a terrible man, who will not stop till he has completed your destruction. Listen to your mother's prayers, and do not let her die broken-hearted. 1 ' " It is too late," returned Jack, sullenly ; " I can't be honest if I would." " Oh ! do not say so," replied his wretched parent. " It is never too late. I know you are in Jonathan Wild's power, for I saw him near you in the church ; and if ever the enemy of man- kind was permitted to take human form, I beheld him then. Beware of him, my son ! Beware of him ! You know not what villany he is capable of. Be honest, and you will be happy. You are yet a child; and though 3-ouhave strayed from the right 1 64 JACK SHEPPAPD. path, a stronger hand than your own has led you thence. Return, 1 implore of you, to your master — to Mr. Wood. Acknowledge your faults. He is all kindness, and will overlook them for your poor father's sake — for mine. Return to him, I say " 11 1 can't," replied Jack, doggedly. "Can't!" repeated his mother. "Why not?" " I'll tell you," cried a deep voice from the back of the bed. And immediately afterwards the curtain was drawn aside, and disclosed the satanic countenance of Jonathan Wild, who had crept into the house unperceived. " I'll tell you, why he can't go back to his master," cried the thief-taker, with a malignant grin. " He has robbed him." " Robbed him ! " screamed the widow. " Jack ! " Her son averted his gaze. " Ay, robbed him," reiterated Jonathan. " The night before last, Mr. Wood's house was broken into and plundered. Your son was seen by the carpenter's wife in company with the robbers. Here," he added, throwing a handbill on the bed, " are the par- ticulars of the burglary, with the reward for Jack's apprehension." " Ah !" ejaculated the widow, hiding her face. " Come," said Wild, turning authoritatively to Jack — " you have overstayed your time." " Do not go with him, Jack ! " shrieked his mother. " Do not —do not!" " He must I " thundered Jonathan, " or he goes to jail." " If you must go to prison, I will go with you," cried Mrs Sheppard : " but avoid that man as you would a serpent." " Come along," thundered Jonathan. " Hear me, Jack ! " shrieked his mother. " You know not what you do. The wretch you confide in has sworn to hang you. As I hope for mercy, I speak the truth ! — let him deny it if he can." "Pshaw!" said Wild. "I could hang him now if I liked. But he may remain with you, if he pleases : / sha'n't hinder him." " You hear, my son," said the widow, eagerly. " Choose between good and evil — between him and me. And mind, your life — more than your life — hangs upon your choice." " It does so," said Wild. ""Choose, Jack." The lad made no answer, but left the room. " He is gone !" cried Mrs. Sheppard, despairingly. " For ever ! '' said the thief-taker, preparing to follow. "Devil !" cried the widow, catching his arm, and gazing with frantic eagerness in his face, " how many years will you give my Bon before you execute your terrible threat ?" "Nine !" answered Jonathan, sternly. END OF THE SECOND EPOCII. <£?nrfj tlje tfjrtrk. 1724. THE PRISON-BREAKER. CHAPTER I.— THE RETURN. Nearly nine years after the events last recorded, and about the middle of May, 1724, a young man of remarkably prepossess- ing appearance took his way one afternoon along Wych Street ; and, from the curiosity with which he regarded the houses on the left of the road, seemed to be in search of some particular habita- tion. The age of this individual could not be more than twenty- one; his figure was tall, robust, and gracefully proportioned; and his clear grey eye and open countenance bespoke a frank, generous, and resolute nature. His features were regular, and finely formed; his complexion bright and blooming — a little shaded, however, by travel and exposure to the sun; and, with a praiseworthy contempt for the universal and preposterous fashion then prevailing of substituting a peruke for the natural covering of the head, he allowed his own dark-brown hair to fall over his shoulders in ringlets as luxuriant as those that dis- tinguished the court gallant in Charles the Second's days — a fashion which we do not despair of seeing revived in our own days. He wore a French military undress of the period, with high jack-boots and a laced hat ; and though his attire indicated no particular rank, he had completely the air of a person of dis- tinction. Such was the effect produced upon the passengers by his good looks and manly deportment, that few — especially of the gentler and more susceptible sex — failed to turn round and bestow a second glance upon the handsome stranger. Uncon- scious of the interest he excited, and entirely occupied by his own thoughts — which, if his bosom could have been examined, would have been found composed of mingled hopes and fears — the young man walked on till he came to an old house, with great projecting bay-windows on the first floor, and situated as nearly as possible at the back of St. Clement's church. Here he halted ; and, looking upwards, read, at the foot of an immense signboard, displaying a gaudily painted angel with expanded 1 P.li JACK SHEPPARD. pinions and an olive branch, not the name he expected to find, but that of WILLIAM KNEEBONE, WOOLLEN-DRAPER. Tears started to the young man's eyes on beholding the change, and it was with difficulty he could command himself sufficiently to make the inquiries he desired to do respecting the former owner of the house. As he entered the shop, a tail portly per- sonage advanced to meet him, whom he at once recognised as the present proprietor. Mr. Kneebone Avas attired in the ex- tremity of the mode. A full curled wig descended half-way down his back and shoulders ; a neckcloth of " right Mechlin" was twisted round his throat so tightly as almost to deprive him of breath, and threaten him with apoplexy ; he had lace, also, at his wrists and bosom ; gold clocks to his hose, and red heels to his shoes. A stiff, formally-cut coat of cinnamon-coloured cloth, with rows of plate buttons, each of the size of a crown piece, on the sleeves, pockets, and skirts, reached the middle of his legs ; and his costume was completed by the silver-bilted sword at his side, and the laced hat under his left arm. Bowing to the stranger, the woollen-draper very politely re- quested to know his business. " I'm almost afraid to state it," faltered the other ; " but may I ask whether Mr. Wood, the carpenter, who formerly resided here, is still living 1 ?" " If you feel any anxiety on his account, sir, I'm happy to be able to relieve it," answered Kneebone, readily. lt My good friend, Owen Wood — Heaven preserve him ! is still living. And, for a man who'll never see sixty again, he's in excellent preserva- tion, I assure you." '' You delight me with the intelligence," said the stranger, entirelv recovering his cheerfulness of look. " I betran to fear, from his having quitted the old place, that some misfortune must have befallen him." " Quite the contrary,'* rejoined the woollen-draper, laughing good-humouredly. " Every thing has prospered with him in an extraordinary manner. His business has thriven ; legacies have unexpectedly dropped into his lap; and, to crown all, he has made a large fortune by a lucky speculation in South-Sea stock — made it, too, where so many others have lost fortunes, your humble servant amongst the number — ha ! ha ! In a word, sir, Mr. Wood ■ is now in Aery affluent circumstances. He stuck to the shop as long as it was necessary, and longer in my opinion. When he left these premises, three years ago, I took them from him; or rather — to deal frankly with you — he placed me in them rent- free; for, I'm not ashamed to confess it, I've had losses, and heavy ones; and, if it hadn't been for him, I don't know where I should have been. Mr. Wood, sir," he added with much emo- tion, " is one of the best of men, and would be the happiest, were it not that " and he hesitated. THE RETURN". 167 fm Well, sir," cried the other, eagerly. " His wife is still living," returned Kneebone, drily. " I understand," replied the stranger, unable to repress a smilb. " But, it strikes me, I've heard that Mrs. Wood was once a favourite of yours." " So she was," replied the woollen-draper, helping himself to an enormous pinch of snuff with the air of a man who does not dislike to be rallied about his gallantry — "so she was. But those days are over — quite over. Since her husband has laid me under such a weight of obligation, I couldn't, in honour, continue — hem!" and he took another explanatory pinch. tl Added to which, she is neither so young as she was, nor is her temper by any means improved — hem !" " Say no more on the subject, sir," observed the stranger, gravely ; " but let us turn to a more agreeable one — her daughter." rt That is a far more agreeable one, I must confess," returned Kneebone, with a self-sufficient smirk. The stranger looked at him as if strongly disposed to chastise his impertinence. " Is she married ?" he asked, after a brief pause. " Married ! — no — no," replied the woollen-draper. " Winifred Wood will never marry, unless the grave can give up its dead. When a mere child, she fixed her affections upon a youth named Thames Darrell, whom her father brought up, and who perished, it is supposed, about nine years ago; and she has determined to remain faithful to his memory." " You astonish me," said the stranger, in a voice full of emo- tion. " Why it is astonishing, certainly," remarked Kneebone, " to find any woman constant — especially to a girlish attachment; but such is the case. She has had offers innumerable; for where wealth and beauty are combined, as in her instance, suitors are seldom wanting. But she was not to be tempted." " She is a matchless creature!" exclaimed the young man. " So I think," replied Kneebone, again applying to the snuff- box, and by that means escaping the angry glance levelled at him by his companion. "I have one inquiry more to make of you, sir," said the stranger, as soon as he had conquered his displeasure, " and I will then trouble you no further. You spoke just now of a youth whom Mr. Wood brought up. As far as I recollect, there were two. What has become of the other?" "Why, surely you don't mean Jack Sheppard?" cried the woollen-draper in surprise. u That was the lad's name ! " returned the stranger. u I guessed from your dress and manner, sir, that you must have been long absent from your own country," said Kueebone; ] 63 JACK SHEPPARD. " and now I'm convinced of it, or you wouldn't have asked that question. Jack Sheppard is the talk and terror of the whole town. The ladies can't sleep in their beds for him ; and as to the men, they daren't go to bed at all. He's the most daring and expert house- breaker that ever used a crowbar. He laughs at locks and bolts; and the more carefully you guard your premises from him, the more likely are you to insure an attack. His exploits and escapes are in every body's mouth. He has been lodged in every roundhouse in the metropolis, and has broken out of them all, and boasts that no prison can hold him. We shall see. His skill has not been tried. At present, he is under the protection of Jonathan Wild." " Does that villain still maintain his power? " asked the stranger sternly. " He does,"' replied Ivneebone, u and, what is more surprising, it seems to increase. Jonathan completely baffles and derides the ends of justice. It is useless to contend with him, even with right on your side. Some years ago, in 1715, just before the Rebellion, I was rash enough to league myself with the Jacobite party, and by Wild's machinations got clapped into Xewgate, whence I was glad to escape with my head upon my shoulders. I charged the thief-taker, as was the fact, with having robbed me, by means of the lad Sheppard, whom he instigated to the deed, of the very pocket-book he produced in evidence against me; but it was of no avail — I couldn't obtain a hearing. Mr. Wood fared still worse. Bribed by a certain Sir Rowland Trenchard, Jonathan kidnapped the carpenter's adopted son, Thames Darrell, and placed him in the hands of a Dutch skipper, with orders to throw him overboard when he got out to sea; and though this was proved as clear as day, the rascal managed matters so adroitly, and gave such a different complexion to the whole affair., that he came off with flying colours. One reason, perhaps, of his success in this case might be, that having arrested his associate in the dark transaction, Sir Rowland Trenchard, on a charge of high treason, he was favoured by Walpcle, who found his account in retaining such an agent. Be this as it may, Jonathan remained the victor; and shortly afterwards — at the price of a third of his estate, it was whispered — he procured Trenchard's liberation from confinement." At the mention of the latter occurrence, a dark cloud gathered upon the stranger's brow. "Do you know any thing further of Sir Rowland?" he asked. et Nothing more than this," answered Kneebone — lt that after the failure of his projects, and the downfall of his party, he retired to his seat, Ashton Hall, near Manchester, and has remained there ever since, entirely secluded from the world." The stranger was for a moment lost in reflection. " And now, sir," he said, preparing to take hi-s departure, " will THE RETURN. 160 you add to the obligation already conferred by informing me where I can meet with Mr. Wood"?" " With pleasure," replied the woollen-draper. " He lives at Dollis Hill, a beautiful spot near Willesden, about four or five miles from town, where he has taken a farm. If you ride out there — and the place is well worth a visit, for the magnificent view it commands of some of the finest country in the neighbour- hood of London — you are certain to meet with him. I saw him yesterday, and he told me he shouldn't stir from home for a week to come. He called here on his way back, alter he had been to Bedlam to visit poor Mrs. Sheppard." "Jack's mother!" exclaimed the young man. "Gracious heaven! — is she the inmate of a madhouse!" "She is, sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. Alas! that the punishment of his offences should fall on her head. Poor soul! she nearly died when she heard he had robbed his master; and it might have been well if she had done so, for she never afterwards recovered her reason. She rambles continually about Jack, and her hus- band, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. I pity her from the bottom of my heart. But, in the midst of all her affliction, she has found a steady Mend in Mr. Wood, who looks after her comforts, and visits her constantly. Indeed, I've heard him say that, but for his wife, he would shelter her under his own roof. That, sir, is what I call being a Good Samaritan." The stranger said nothing, but hastily brushed away a tear. Perceiving he was about to take leave, Kneebone ventured to ask whom he had had the honour of addressing. Before the question could be answered, a side-door was opened, and a very handsome woman of Amazonian proportions presented herself, and marched familiarly up to Mr. Kneebone. She was extremely showily dressed, and her large hooped petticoat gave additional effect to her lofty stature. As soon as she noticed the stranger, she honoured him with an extremely impudent stare, and scarcely endeavoured to disguise the admiration with which his good looks impressed her. u Don't you perceive, my dear Mrs. Maggot, that I'm engaged," said Kneebone, a little disconcerted. "Who've you got with you?" demanded the Amazon, boldly. H The gentleman is a stranger to me, Poll," replied the woollen- draper, with increased embarrassment. " I don't know his name." And he looked at the moment as if he had lost all desire to know it. " Well, he's a pretty fellow at all events," observed Mrs. Mag- got, eyeing him from head to heel with evident satisfaction; — "a devilish pretty fellow!" " Upon my word, Poll," said Kneebone, becoming very red, 170 JACK SHEPPAED. " you might have a little more delicacy than to tell him so be- fore my face." "What!" exclaimed Mrs. Maggot, drawing up her fine figure to its full height; " because I condescend to live with you, am I never to look at another man — especially at one so much to my taste as this? Don't think it!" " You had better retire, madam," said the woollen-draper, sharply, " if you can't conduct yourself with more propriety." " Order those who choose to obey you," rejoined the lady scorn- fully. " Though you lorded it over that fond fool, Mrs. Wood, you sha'n't lord it over me, I can promise you. That for you!" And she snapped her fingers in his face. " Zounds!" cried Kneebone, furiously. " Go to your own room, woman, directly, or I'll make you!" "Make me!" echoed Mrs. Maggot, bursting into a loud con- temptuous laugh. "Try!" Enraged at the assurance of his mistress, the woollen-draper endeavoured to carry his threat into execution, but all his efforts to remove her were unavailing. At length, after he had given up the point from sheer exhaustion, the Amazon seized him by the throat, and pushed him backwards with such force that he rolled over the counter. "There!" she cried, laughing, "that'll teach you to lay hands upon me again. You should remember, before you try your strength against mine, that when I rescued you from the watch, and you induced me to come and live with you, I beat off four men, any of whom was a match for you — ha ! ha!" "My dear Poll!' said Kneebone, picking himself up, "I intreat you to moderate yourself." "Intreat a fiddlestick!" retorted Mrs. Maggot: "I'm tired of you, and will go back to my old lover, Jack Sheppard. He's worth a dozen of you. Or, if this good-looking young fellow will only say the word, I'll go with him." "You may go, and welcome, madam !" rejoined Kneebone, spite- fully. "But, I should think, after the specimen you've just given of your amiable disposition, no person would be likely to saddle himself with such an incumbrance." "AVhat say you, sir?" said the Amazon, with an engaging leer at the stranger. " You will find me tractable enough; and, with vie by your side, you need fear neither constable nor watchman. I've delivered Jack Sheppard from many an assault. I can wield a quarterstaff as well as a prize-fighter, and have beaten Figg him- self at the broadsword. Will you take me?" However tempting Mrs. Maggot's offer may appear, the young Daan thought fit to decline it, and, after a few words of well-merited compliment on her extraordinary prowess, and renewed thanks to Mr. Kneebone, he took his departure. "Good-bve!" cried Mrs. Maggot, kissing her hand to him. THE RETURN. J 71 tl I'll find you out. And now," she added, glancing contemptu- ously at the woollen-draper, " I'll go to Jack Sheppard." (i You shall first go to Bridewell, you jade !" rejoined Kneebone. " Here, Tom," he added, calling to a shop-boy, " run and fetch a constable." " He had better bring half-a-dozen," said the Amazon, taking up a cloth yard wand, and quietly seating herself; "one won't do." On leaving Mr. Kneebone' s house, the young man hastened to a hotel in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden, where, having pro- cured a horse, he shaped his course towards the west end of the town. Urging his steed along Oxford Road — as that great ap- proach to the metropolis was then termed — he soon passed Mary- lebone Lane, beyond which, with the exception of a few scattered houses, the country was completely open on the right, and laid out in pleasant fields and gardens ; nor did he draw in the rein until he arrived at Tyburn-gate, where, before he turned ofFupon the Edge- ware Road, he baited for a moment to glance at the place of execu- tion. This '* fatal retreat for the unfortunate brave"was marked by a low wooden railing, within which stood the triple tree. Opposite the gallows was an open gallery, or scaffolding, like the stand at a race-course, which, on state occasions, was crowded with spec- tators. Without the inclosure were reared several lofty gibbets, with their ghastly burdens. Altogether, it was a hideous and revolting sight, Influenced, probably, by what he had heard from Mr. Kneebone, respecting the lawless career of Jack Sheppard, and struck with the probable fate that awaited him, the young man, as he contemplated this scene, fell into a gloomy reverie. While he was thus musing, two horsemen rode past him ; and, proceeding to a little distance, stopped likewise. One of them was a stout square-built man, with a singularly swarthy com- plexion, and harsh forbidding features, lie was well mounted, as was his companion ; and had pistols in his holsters, and a hanger at his girdle. The other individual, who was a little in advance, was concealed from the stranger's view. Presently, however, a sudden movement occurred, and disclosed his features, which were those of a young man of nearly his own age. The dress of this person Avas excessively showy, and consisted of a scarlet riding habit, lined and faced with blue, and bedizened with broad gold lace, a green silk-knit waistcoat, embroidered with silver, and decorated with a deep fringe, together with a hat tricked out in the same gaudy style. His figure was slight, but well-built ; and in stature he did not exceed five feet four. His complexion was pale ; and there was something sinister in the expression of his large black eyes. His head was small and bullet-shaped, and he did not wear a wig, but had his sleek black hair cut off closely round his temples. A mutual recognition took place at the same instant between the stranger and this individual. Both started. The latter seemed inclined to advance and address the former: 172 TACK SHEPPABT>. but suddenly changing his mind, he shouted to his companion in tones familiar to the stranger's ear ; and, striking spurs into his steed, dashed oft' at full speed along the Edgewarc Road. Im- pelled by a feeling, into which we shall not pause to inquire, the stranger started after them; but they were better mounted, and soon distanced him. Remarking that they struck off at a turn- ing on the left, he took the same road, and soon found himself on Paddington-areen. A row of magnificent, and even then vene* rablc, elms threw their broad arms over this pleasant spot. From a man, who was standing beneath the shade of one of these noble tree.-, information was obtained that the horsemen had ridden along the Harrow Road. With a faint view of overtaking them, the pursuer urged his steed to a quicker pace. Arrived at West- bourne-grecn — then nothing more than a common covered with gorseand furze bushes, and boasting only a couple of cottages and an alehouse — he perceived through the hedges the objects of his search slowly ascending the gentle hill that rises from Kensall-green. By the time he had reached the summit of this hill, he had lost all trace of them; and the ardour of the chase having in some measure subsided, he began to repi'oach himself for his folly, in having wandered — as he conceived — so far out of his course. Before retracing his steps, however, he allowed his gaze to range over the vast and beautiful prospect spread out beneath him, which is now hidden from the traveller's view by the high walls of the general cemetery, and can, consequently, only be commanded from the interior of that attractive place of burial — and which, before it was intersected by canals and railroads, and portioned out into hippodromes, was exquisite indeed. After feasting his eye upon this superb panorama, he was about to return, when he ascertained from a farmer that his nearest road to WilLeaden would be down a lane a little further on, to the right. Following this direction, he opened a gate, and struck into one of the most beautiful green lanes imaginable; which, after various windings, conducted him into a more frequented road, and eventually brought him to the place he sought. Glancing at the finger-post over the cage, which has been described as situated at the out- skirts of the village, and seeing no direction to Dollis Hill, he made fresh inquiries as to where it lay, from an elderly man, who was standing with another countryman near the little prison. " Whose house do you want, master?" said the man, touching his hat. ( ' Mr. Wood's," was the reply. " There is Dollis Hill," said the man, pointing to a well- wooded eminence about a mile distant, " and there," he added, indicating the roof of a house just visible above a grove of trees, " is Mr. Wood's. If you ride past the church, and mount the hill, you'll come to Xeasdun, and then you'll not have above half a mile to £io." THE RETURN. 173 The young man thanked his informant, and was about to fol- low liis instructions, when the other called after him — "I say, master, did you ever hear tell of Mr. Wood's famous prentice?" 11 What apprentice?" asked the stranger, in surprise. " Why, Jack Sheppard, the notorious housebreaker — him as has robbed half Lunnun, to be sure. You must know, sir, when he was a lad, the day after he broke into his master's hou^e in Wych Street, he picked a gentleman's pocket in our church, dur- ing sarvice time — that he did, the heathen. The gentleman catched him i' th' fact, and we shut him up for safety i' that pris'n. But," said the fellow, with a laugh, " he soon contrived to make his way out on it, though. Ever since he's become so famous, the folks about here ha' christened it Jack Sheppard's cage. His mother used to live i' this village, just down yonder; but when her son took to bad ways, she went distracted — and now she's i' Bedlam, I've heerd." " I tell e'e what, John Dump," said the other fellow, who had hitherto preserved silence, " I don't know r whether you talkin' o' Jack Sheppard has put him into my head or not; but I once had him pointed out to me, and if that were him as I seed then, he's just now ridden past us, and put up at the Six Bells." " The deuce he has!" cried Dump. "If you were sure o' that we might seize him, and get the reward for his apprehension." " That 'ud be no such easy matter," replied the countryman. "Jack's a desperate fellow, and is always well armed; besides, he has a comrade with him. But I'll tell e'e what we might do " The young man heard no more. Taking the direction pointed out, he rode off. As he passed the Six Bells, he noticed the steeds of the two horsemen at the door; and, glancing into the house, perceived the younger of the two in the passage. The latter no sooner beheld him than he dashed hastily into an adjoin- ing room. After debating with himself whether he should further seek an interview, which, though now in his power, was so sedulously shunned by the other party, he decided in the nega- tive; and contenting himself with writing upon a slip of paper the hasty words — " You are known by the villagers — be upon your guard," — he gave it to the ostler, with instructions to deliver it instantly to the owner of the horse he pointed out, and pursued his course. Passing the old rectory, and still older church, with its reverend screen of trees, and slowly ascending a hillside, from whence he obtained enchanting peeps of the spire and college of Harrow, he reached the cluster of well-built houses which constitute the village of Neasdon. From this spot a road, more resembling the drive through a park than a public thoroughfare, led him gradu- ally to the brow of Dollis Hill. It was a serene and charming 174 JACK SnEPPAITD. evening, and twilight was gently stealing over the face of the coun- try. Bordered by fine timber, the road occasionally offered glimp- ses of a lovely valley, until a wider opening gave a full view of a delightful and varied prospect. On the left lay the heights of Hampstead, studded villas, while farther off a hazy cloud marked the position of the metropolis. The stranger concluded he could not be far from his destination, and a turn in the road showed him the house. Beneath two tall elms, whose boughs completely overshadowed the roof, stood Mr. Wood's dwelling — a plain, substantial, com- modious farmhouse. On a bench at the foot of the trees, with a pipe in his mouth, and a tankard by his side, sat the worthy car- penter, looking the picture of good-heartedness and benevolence. The progress of time was marked in Mr. Wood by increased cor- pulence and decreased powers of vision — by deeper wrinkles and higher shoulders, by scantier breath and a fuller habit. Still he looked hale and hearty, and the country life he led had imparted a ruddier glow to his cheek. Around him were all the evidences of plenty. A world of hay-stacks, bean-stacks, and straw-ricks flanked the granges adjoining his habitation ; the yard was crowd- ed with poultry, pigeons were feeding at his feet, cattle were being driven towards the stall, horses led to the stable, a large mastiff was rattling his chain, and stalking majestically in front of his kennel, while a number of farming-men were passing and repassing about their various occupations. At the back of the house, on a bank, rose an old-fashioned terrace-garden, full of apple-trees and other fruit-trees in blossom, and lively with the delicious verdure of early spring. Hearing the approach of the rider, Mr. Wood turned to look at him. It was now getting dusk, and he could only imperfectly distinguish the features and figure of the stranger. " I need not ask whether this is Mr. Wood's," said the latter, " since I find him at his own gate." " You are right, sir," said the worthy carpenter, rising. " I am Owen Wood, at your service." " You do not remember me, I dare say," observed the stranger. " 1 can't say I do," replied Wood. " Your voice seems familiar to me — and — but I'm getting a little deaf — and my eyes don't serve me quite so well as they used to do, especially by this light." "Never mind," returned the stranger, dismounting; "you'll recollect me by and by, I've no doubt. I bring you tidings of an old friend." " Then you're heartily welcome, sir, whoever you are. Pray, walk in. Here, Jem, take the gentleman's horse to the stable- see him dressed and fed directly. Xow, sir, will you please to follow me?" THE RETURN. 175 Mr. Wood then led the way up a rather high, and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. There was no light in the room; but, notwithstanding this, the young man did not fail to detect the buxom figure of Mrs. Wood, now more buxom and more gor- geously arrayed than ever — as well as a young and beautiful female, in whom he was at no loss to recognise the carpenters daughter. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year. Her features were still slightly marked by the disorder alluded to in the de- scription of her as a child — but that was the only drawback to her beauty. Their expression was so amiable, that it would have redeemed a countenance a thousand times plainer than hers. Her figure was perfect — tall, graceful, rounded — and, then, she had deep liquid blue eyes, that rivalled the stars in lustre. On the stranger's appearance, she was seated near the window busily occupied with her needle. " My wife and daughter, sir," said the carpenter, introducing them to his guest. Mrs. Wood, whose admiration for masculine beauty was by no means abated, glanced at the well-proportioned figure of the young man, and made him a very civil salutation. Winifred's reception was kind, but more distant, and after the slight cere- monial she resumed her occupation. " This gentleman brings us tidings of an old friend, my dear," said the carpenter. "Ay, indeed! And who may that be?'' inquired his wife. " One whom you may perhaps have forgotten," replied the stranger, " but who can never forget the kindness he experienced at your hands, or at those of your excellent husband." At the sound of his voice every vestige of colour fled from Winifred's cheeks, and the work upon which she was engaged fell from her hand. " I have a token to deliver to you," continued the stranger, addressing her. " To me?" gasped Winifred. " This locket," he said, taking a little ornament attached to a black riband from his breast, and giving it her, — "do you remember it ? " "I do— I do!" cried Winifred. u What's all this?" exclaimed Wood in amazement. "Do you not know me, father?" said the young man, advancing towards him, and warmly grasping his hand. " 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. Wood, joining the group, " it isn't Thames Darrell come to life again?" I7G JACK SIIEPPAKD. "It is — it is !" cried Winifred, rushing towards him, and fling- ing her arms round his neck — "it is my dear — dear brother !" " Well, this is what I never expected to see," said the carpen- ter, wiping his eyes; " I hope I'm not dreaming! Thames, my dear boy, as soon as Winny has done with you, let me embrace you." " My turn comes before yours, sir," interposed his better half. " Come to my arms, Thames ! Oh, dear ! Oh, dear !" To repeat the questions and congratulations which now ensued, or describe the extravagant joy of the carpenter, who, after he had hugged his adopted son to his breast with such warmth as almost to squeeze the breath from his body, capered around the room, threw his wig into the empty fire-grate, and committed various other fantastic actions, in order to get rid of his superflu- ous satisfaction — to describe the scarcely less extravagant raptures of his spouse, or the more subdued, but not less heartfelt delight of Winifred, would be a needless task, as it must occur to every one's imagination. Supper was quickly served; the oldest bottle of wine was brought from the cellar : the strongest barrel of ale was tapped ; but not one of the party could eat or drink — their hearts were too full. Thames sat with Winifred's hand clasped in his own, and commenced a recital of his adventures, which may be briefly told. Carried out to sea by Van Galgebrok, and thrown overboard, while struggling with the waves he had been picked up by a French fishing-boat, and carried to Ostend. After encountering various hardships and privations for a long time, during which he had no means of communicating with England, he, at length, found his Avay to Paris, where he was taken notice of by Cardinal Dubois, who employed him as one of his secretaries, and subse- quently advanced to the service of Philip of Orleans, from whom he received a commission. On the death of his royal patron, he resolved to return to his own country; and after various delays, which had postponed it to the present time, he had succeeded in accomplishing his object. Winifred listened to his narration with the profoundest atten- tion; and, when it concluded, her tearful eye and throbbing bo- som told how deeply her feelings had been interested. The discourse, then, turned to Darrell's old playmate, Jack Sheppard; and Mr. Wood, in deploring his wild career, ad- verted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. "For my part, it's only what I expected of him," observed Mrs. Wood, " and I'm sorry and surprised he hasn't swung for his crimes before this. The gallows has groaned for him for years. As to his mother, I've no pity for her. She deserves what has befallen her." "Dear mother, don't say so," returned Winifred. "One of the consequences of criminal conduct, is the shame and disgrace THE RETURN. 1 77 which — worse than any punishment the evil-doer can suffer — is brought by it upon the innocent relatives ; and, if Jack had con- sidered this, perhaps he would not have acted as he lias done, and have entailed so much misery on his unhappy parent.'' " I always detested Mrs. Sheppard," cried the carpenter's wife bitterly ; " and, I repeat, Bedlam's too good for her.'" "My dear,*' observed Wood, "you should be more charitable — " "Charitable!" repeated his wife, "that's your constant cry. Marry, come up ! I've been a great deal too charitable. Here's Winny always urging you to go and visit Mrs. Sheppard in the asylum, and take her this, and send her that — and I've never prevented you, though such mistaken liberality's enough to provoke a saint. And, then, forsooth, she must needs prevent your hanging Jack Sheppard after the robbery in W-ych Street, when you might have done so. Perhaps you'll call that charity : / call it defeating the ends of justice. Sec what a horrible rascal you've let loose upon the world ?" " I'm sure, mother,' 1 rejoined Winifred, " if any one was likely to feel resentment, I was; for no one could be more frightened. But I was sorry for poor Jaac, as I am still, and hoped he would mend." "Mend!" echoed Mrs. Wood, contemptuously ; "he'll never mend till he comes to Tyburn." " At least, I will hope so," returned Winifred. " But, as I was saying, I was most dreadfully frightened on the night of the robbery. Though so young at the time, I remember every cir- cumstance distinctly. I was sitting up, lamenting your departure, dear Thames, when, hearing an odd noise, I went to the landing, and, by the light of a dark lantern, saw Jack Sheppard stealing up-stairs, followed by two men with crape on their faces. I'm ashamed to say, that I was too much terrified to scream out — but ran and hid myself." " Hold your tongue ! " cried Mrs. Wood; "I declare you throw me into an ague. Do you think / forget it? Didn't they help themselves to all the plate and the money — to several of my best dresses, and, amongst others, to my favourite kincob gown ; and I've never been able to get another like it! Marry, come up ! I'd hang 'em all, if I could. Were such a thing to happen again, I'd never let Mr. Wood rest till he brought the villains to justice." " I hope such a thing never will happen again, my dear," observed Wood, mildly ; " but, when it does, it will be time to consider what course we ought to pursue." " Let them attempt it, if they dare !" cried Mrs. Wood, who had worked herself into a passion ; " and, I'll warrant 'em, the boldest robber among 'em shall repent it, if he comes across me." " No doubt, my dear," acquiesced the carpenter, " no doubt." Thames, who had been more than once on the point of mention- >- 178 jack sheppard. ing liis accidental rencounter with Jack Sheppard, not being altogether without apprehension, from the fact of his being in the neighbourhood — now judged it more prudent to say nothing on the subject, from a fear of increasing Mrs. Wood's displea- sure ; and he was the more readily induced to do this, as the conversation began to turn upon his own affairs. Mr. "Wood could give him no further information respecting Sir Rowland Trenchard, than what he had obtained from Kneebone; but begged him to defer the further consideration of the line of conduct he meant to pursue until the morrow, when he hoped to have a plan to lay before him, of which he would approve. The night was now advancing, and the party began to think of separating. As Mrs. W r ood, who had recovered her good-humour, quitted the room, she bestowed a hearty embrace on Thames, and she told him, laughingly, that she would " defer all she had to propose to him until to-morrow." To-morrow! She never beheld it. After an affectionate parting with Winifred, Thames was con- ducted by the carpenter to his sleeping apartment — a comfortable cosy chamber; such a one, in short, as can only be met with in the country, with its dimity-curtained bed, its sheets fragrant of lavender, its clean white furniture, and an atmosphere breathing of freshness. Left to himself, he took a survey of the room, and his heart leaped as he beheld, over the chimneypiece, a portrait of himself. It was a copy of the pencil sketch taken of him nine years ago by Winifred, and awakened a thousand tender recollec- tions. When about to retire to rest, the rencounter with Jack Shep- pard again recurred to him, and he half blamed himself for not acquainting Mr. Wood with the circumstances, and putting him upon his guard against the possibility of an attack. On weigh- ing the matter over, he grew so uneasy that he resolved to de- scend, and inform him of his misgivings. But, when he got to the door with this intention, he became ashamed of his fears; and feeling convinced- that Jack — bad as he might be — was not capa- ble of such atrocious conduct as to plunder his benefactor twice, he contented himself with looking to the priming of his pistols, and placing them near him, to be ready in case of need, he threw himself on the bed, and speedily fell asleep. CHAPTER II.— THE BURGLARY AT DOLLIS HILL. Thames Darrell's fears were not, however, groundless. Danger, in the form he apprehended, was lurking outside : nor was he destined to enjoy long repose. On receiving the warning note from the ostler, Jack Sheppard and his companion left THE BURGLARY AT DOLLTS HILL. 179 Willesden, and taking — as a blind — the direction of Harrow, re- turned at nightfall by a by-lane to Neasdon, and put up at a little public-house called the Spotted Dog. Here they remained till midnight, when, calling for their reckoning and their steeds, they left the house. It was a night well-fitted to their enterprise, calm, still, and profoundly dark. As they passed beneath the thick trees that shade the road to Dollis Hill, the gloom was almost impenetrable. The robbers proceeded singly, and kept on the grass skirting the road, so that no noise Avas made by their horses' feet. - As they neared the house, Jack Sheppard, who led the way, halted, and addressed his companion in a low voice : — " I don't half like this job, Blueskin," he said ; " it always went against the grain. But, since I've seen the friend and companion of my childhood, Thames Darrcll, I've no heart for it. Shall we turn back ?" "And disappoint Mr. Wild, captain?*' remonstrated the other, in a deferential tone. " You know this is a pet project. It might be dangerous to thwart him." " Tish !" cried Jack : " I don't value his anger a straw. All our fraternity are afraid of him ; but / laugh at his threats. He daren't, quarrel with me : and if he docs, let him look to himself. I've my own reasons for disliking this job." " Well, you know 1 always act under your orders, captain," re- turned Blueskin ; " and if you give the word to retreat, I shall obey, of course : but I know what Edgeworth Bess will say when we go home empty-handed." tl Why, what will she say?" inquired Sheppard. " That we were afraid," replied the other ; " but never mind her." " Ah; but I do mind her," cried Jack, upon whom his comrade's observation had produced the desired effect. " We'll do it." " That's right, captain," rejoined Blueskin. " You pledged yourself to Mr. Wild " " I did," interrupted Jack; "and I never yet broke an engage- ment. Though a thief, Jack Sheppard is a man of his word." u To be sure he is," acquiesced Blueskin. " I should like to meet the man who would dare to gainsay it." " One word before we begin, Blueskin," said Jack, authorita- tively; " in case the family should be alarmed — mind, no violence. There's one person in the house whom I wouldn't frighten for the world." "Wood's daughter, I suppose?" observed the other. " You've hit it," answered Sheppard. " What say you to carrying her off, captain ?"suggestedBlueskin. "If you've a fancy for the girl, we might do it.'' "No — no," laughed Jack. "Bess wouldn't bear a rival. But if you wish to do old Wood a friendly turn, you may bring off his wife." 180 JACK BHEPPAED. "I shouldn't mind ridding him of her," said Blueskin, gruffly; " and, if she comes in my way, may the devil seize me if I don't make short work with her! " " You forget," rejoined Jack, sternly, "I've just said I'll have no violence — mind that." With this, they dismounted; and, fastening their horses to a tree, proceeded towards the house. It was still so dark, that nothing could be distinguished except the heavy masses of timber by which the premises were surrounded ; but as they advanced, lights were visible in some of the windows. Presently they came to a wall, on the other side of which the dog began to bark violently; but Blueskin tossed him a piece of prepared meat, and, uttering a low growl, he became silent. They then clambered over a hedge, and, scaling another wall, got into the garden at the back of the house. Treading with noiseless step over the soft mould, they soon reached the building. Arrived there, Jack felt about for a particular window; and having discovered the object of his search, and received the necessary implements from his com- panion, he instantly commenced operations. In a few seconds, the shutter flew open — then the window — and they were in the room. .Tack now carefully closed the shutters, while Blueskin struck a light, with which he set fire to a candle. The room they were in was a sort of closet, with the door locked outside; but this was only a moment's obstacle to Jack, who with a chisel forced back the bolt. The operation was effected with so much rapidity and so little noise, that, even if any one had been on the alert, he could scarcely have detected it. They then took off their boots, and crept stealthily up-stairs, treading upon the point of their toes so cautiously, that not a board creaked beneath their weight. Pausing at each door on the landing, Jack placed his ear to the keyhole, and listened intently. Having ascertained by the breathing which room Thames occupied, he speedily contrived to fasten him in. He then tried the door of Mr. Wood's bedchamber — it was locked, with the key left in it. This occasioned a little delay; but Jack, whose skill as a workman in the particular line he had chosen was unequalled, and who laughed at difficulties, speedily cut out a panel by means of a centre-bit and knife, took the key from the other side, and unlocked the door. Covering his face with a crape mask, and taking the candle from his associate, Jack entered the room; and, pistol in hand, stepped up to the bed, and approached the light to the eyes of the sleepers. The loud noise proceeding from the couch proved that their slumbers were deep and real; and, unconscious of the danger in which she stood, Mrs. Wood turned over to obtain a more com- fortable position. During this movement Jack grasped the barrel of his pistol, he-Id in his breath, and motioned to Blueskin, who bared a long knife, to keep still. The momentary alarm over, he threw a piece of wash-leathev over a bureau, so as to deaden irrt{ ttuJf j K»>4tt.- THE BURGLARY AT DOLL IS HILL. J 81 the sound, and instantly broke it open with a small crowbar. While he was filling his pockets with golden coin from this store, Blueskin had pulled the plate-chest from under the bed, and having forced it open, began filling a canvass bag with its contents — silver coffeepots, chocolate-dishes, waiters, trays, tank- ards, goblets, and candlesticks. It might be supposed that these articles, when thrust together into the bag, would have jingled; but these skilful practitioners managed matters so well that no noise was made. After rifling the room of every thing portable, including some of Mrs. Wood's ornaments and wearing apparel, they prepared to depart. Jack then intimated his intention of visiting V*. inifrcd's chamber, in which several articles of value were known to be kept; but as, notwithstanding his reckless character, he still retained a feeling of respect for the object of his boyish affections, he would not suffer Blueskin to accompany him, so he commanded him to keep watch over the sleepers — strictly enjoining him, however, to do them no injury. Again having recourse to the centre-bit — for Winifred's door was locked— Jack had nearly cut out a panel, when a sudden outcry was raised in the carpenter's chamber. The next moment a struggle was heard, and Blueskin appeared at the door, followed by Mrs. Wood. Jack instantly extinguished the light, and called to his comrade to come alter him. But Blueskin found it impossible to make off — at least with the spoil — Mrs. Wood having laid hold of the canvass bag. "Give back the things!" cried the lacy. "Help! Help —Mr. Wood!" " Leave go!"' thundered Blueskin — "leave go — you'd better!'' — and he held the sack as firmly as he could with one hand, while with the other he searched tor his knife. " No, I won't leave go !" screamed Mrs. Wood. " Fire ! — murder ! — thieves ! — I've got one of 'em 1" " Come along," cried Jack. " I can't !" answered Blueskin. "This she-devil has got hold of the sack. Leave go, I tell you!"' and he forced open the knife with his teeth. "Help! — murder! — thieves!" — screamed Mrs. Wood , — --'Owen! — Owen ! — Thames! — help !" "Coming!" cried Mr. Wood, leaping from the bed. '"Where are vou?" " Here," replied Mrs. Wood. " Help— I'll hold him !" " Leave her," cried Jack, darting down-stairs amid a furious ringing of bells — "the house is alarmed- — follow me !" "Curses light on you!" cried Blueskin, savagely; "since you won't be advised, take your fate.' 1 And seizing her by the hair, he pulled back her head, and drew the knife with all his force across her throat. '\ here was a dreadful stifled groan, and she fell heavily u\)on the landing. 182 JACK SHEPPARD. The screams of the unfortunate woman had aroused Thames from his slumbers. Snatching up his pistols, he rushed to the door, but to his horror found it fastened. He heard the struggle on the landing, the fall of the heavy body, the groan — and, excited almost to frenzy by his fears, he succeeded in forcing open the door. By this time, several of the terrified domestics appeared with lights. A terrible spectacle was presented to the young man's gaze — the floor deluged with blood — the mangled and lifeless body of Mrs. Wood — Winifred fainted in the arms of a female attendant — and Wood standing beside them almost in a state of distraction. Thus, in a few minutes, had this happy family been plunged into the depths of misery. At this juncture a cry was raised by a servant from below, that the robbers were flying through the garden. Darting to a window looking in that direction, Thames threw it up, and discharged both his pistols, but without effect. In another minute, the tramp of horses' feet told that the perpetrators of the outrage had effected their escape. CHAPTER III.— JACK SHEPPARD'S QUARREL WITH JONATHAN WILD. Scarcely an hour after the horrible occurrence just related, as Jonathan Wild was seated in the audience chamber of his resi- dence at the Old Bailey, occupied, like Peachum (for whose portrait he sat), with his account-books and registers, he was interrupted by the sudden entrance of Quilt Arnold, who an- nounced Jack Sheppard and Blueskin. " Ah !" cried Wild, laying down his pen and looking up with a smile of satisfaction, " 1 was just thinking of you, Jack. What news? Have you done the trick at Dollis Hill? — brought off the swag — eh?" " No;" answered Jack, flinging himself sullenly into a chair, " I've not." " Why, how's this?" exclaimed Jonathan. "Jack Sheppard failed ! I'd not believe it if any one but himself told me so." " I've not failed," returned Jack, angrily ; " but we've done too much." " I'm no reader of riddles," said Jonathan. " Speak plainly.' 1 " Let this speak for me," said Sheppard, tossing a heavy bag of money towards him. " You can generally understand that language. There's more than I undertook to bring. It has been purchased by blood !" " What ! have you cut old Wood's throat ? " asked Wild, with great unconcern, as he took up the bag. " If I had, you'd not have seen me here," replied Jack, sullenly. " The blood that has been spilt is that of his wife." jack's quarrel with wild. Ib3 n It was her own fault," observed Blueskin, moodily. " She wouldn't let me go. I did it in self-defence." " I care not why you did it," said Jack, sternly. " We work together no more." " Come, come, captain," remonstrated Blueskin, " I thought you'd have got rid of your ill-humour by this time. You know as well as I do that it was accident." u Accident or not," rejoined Sheppard ; " you're no longer pal of mine." " And so this is my reward for having made you the tip- top cracksman you are," muttered Blueskin; — " to be turned off at a moment's notice, because I silenced a noisy woman. It's too hard. Think better of it." " My mind's made up," rejoined Jack, coldly — " we part to- night," " Til not go," answered the other. t( I love you like a son, and will follow you like a dog. You'd not know what to do without me, and shan't drive me off." " Well !" remarked Jonathan, who had paid little attention to the latter part of the conversation; "this is an awkward, business certainly; but we must do the best we can in it. YoH must keep out of the way till it's blown over. I can accommodate you below." " I don't require it," returned Sheppard. " I'm tired of the life I'm leading. I shall quit it and go abroad." " I'll go with you," said Blueskin. " Before either of you go, you will ask my permission," said Jonathan, coolly. "How!"' exclaimed Sheppard. " Do you mean to say you will interfere " " I mean to say this," interrupted Wild, with contemptuous calmness, " that I'll neither allow you to leave England nor the profession you've engaged in. I wouldn't allow you to be honest even if you could be so — which I doubt. You arc my slave — and such y<> shall continue." " Slave?" echoed Jack. " Dare to disobey," continued Jonathan : " neglect my orders, and I will hang you." Sheppard started to his feet. " Hear me!" he cried, restraining himself with difficulty. " It is time you should know whom you have to deal with. Henceforth, I utterly throw off the yoke you have laid upon me. I will neither stir hand nor foot for you more. Attempt to mo- lest me, and I split, You are more in my power than I am in yours. Jack Sheppard is a match for Jonathan Wild, any day." " That he is," added Blueskin, approvingly. Jonathan smiled contemptuously. 184 JACK SHEPPARD, " One motive alone shall induce me to go on with you," said Jack. " What's that?" asked Wild. " The youth whom you delivered to Van Galgebrok — Thames Dnrrell — is returned." " Impossible !" cried Jonathan. "He was thrown overboard, and perished at sea." " He is alive," replied Jack, " I have seen him, and might have conversed with him if I had chosen. Now, I know you can re- store him to his rights, if you choose. Do so; and I am yours as heretofore." "Humph !" exclaimed Jonathan. " Your answer !" cried Sheppard. " Yes, or no 1 " et I will make no terms with you," rejoined Wild, sternly. " You have defied me, and shall feel my power. You have been useful to me, or I would not have spared you thus long. I swore to hang you two years ago, but I deferred my purpose." "Deferred!" echoed Sheppard. " Hear me out," said Jonathan. " You came hither under my protection, and you shall depart freely — nay, more, you shall have sal hour's grace. After that time, I shall place my setters on your heels." '•You cannot prevent my departure," replied Jack, dauntlessly, "and therefore your offer is no favour. But I tell you in return, I shall take no pains to hide myself. If you want me, you know where to find me." "An hour," said Jonathan, looking at his watch, — "remember!" "If you send for me to the Cross Shovels in the Mint, where I'm going with Blueskin, I will surrender myself without resist- ance," returned Jack. "You will spare the officers a labour then," rejoined Jonathan. " Can't I settle this business, captain," muttered Blueskin, draw- ing a pistol. "Dont harm him," said Jack, carelessly: "he dares not, do it." So saying, he left the room. "Blueskin," said Jonathan, as that worthy was about to follow, "I advise you to remain with me." "No," answered the ruffian, moodily. "If you arrest him, you must arrest me also." "As you will," said Jonathan, seating himself. Jack and his comrade went to the Mint, where he was joined by Edgeworth Bess, with whom he sat down most unconcernedly to supper. His revelry, however, was put an end to at the ex- piration of the time mentioned by Jonathan, by the entrance of a posse of constables with Quilt Arnold and Abraham Mendez at their head. Jack, to the surprise of all his companions, at once surrendered himself: but Blueskin would have made a fierce re- sistance, and attempted a rescue if he had not been ordered by THE NEW FBISOX. 1S5 his leader to desist. He then made off. Edgeworth Bess, who passed for Sheppard's wife, was secured. They were hurried be- fore a magistrate, and charged by Jonathan Wild with various robberies; but, as Jack Sheppard stated that he had most impor- tant disclosures to make, as well as charges to bring forward against his accuser, he was committed with his female companion to the New Prison in Clerkenwell for further examination. CHAPTER IV.— JACK SHEPPARD'S ESCAPE FROM THE NEW PRISON. In consequence of Jack Sheppard's desperate character, it was judged expedient by the keeper of the New Prison to load him with fetters of unusual weight, and to place him in a cell which, from its strength and security, was called the Newgate Ward. The ward in which he was confined was about .-ix yards in length and three in width, and in height might be about twelve feet. The windows, which were about nine feet from the floor, had no glass; but were secured by thick iron bars and an oaken beam. Along the floor ran an iron bar, to which Jack's chain was attached, so that he could move along it from one end of the chamber to the other. No prisoner except Edgeworth Bess was placed in the same cell with him. Jack was in excellent spirits; and bv his wit, drollery, and agreeable demeanour, speedily became a gr^at favourite with the turnkey, who allowed him every indulgence consistent with his situation. The report of his detention caused an immense sensation. Numberless charges were preferred against him, amongst others, information was lodged of the robbery at Dollis Hill, and murder of Mrs. Wood, and a large reward offered for the apprehension of Blueskin; and as, in addition to this, Jack had threatened to impeach Wild, his next examination was look- ed forward to with the greatest interest. The day before this examination was appointed to take place — the third of the prisoner's detention — an old man, respectably dressed, requested permission to see him. Jack's friends were allowed to visit him ; but, as he had openly avowed his intention of attempting an escape, their proceedings Averc narrowly watched. The old man was conducted to Jack's cell by the turnkey, who remained near him during the interview. He appeared to be a stranger to the prisoner, and the sole motive of his visit, curiosity. After a brief conversation, which Sheppard sustained with his accustomed liveliness, the old man turned to Bess and addressed a few words of common-place gallantry to her. While this was going on, Jack suddenly made a movement which attracted the turnkey's attention; and during that interval the old man slipped some articles wrapped in a handkerchief into 186 JACK SHEPPAED Bess's hands, who instantly secreted them in her bosom. The turnkey looked round the next moment, but the manoeuvre escaped his observation. After a little further discourse the old man took his departure. Left alone with Edgeworth Bess, Jack burst into a loud laugh of exultation. " Blueskin's a friend in need," he said. " His disguise was capital; but I detected it in a moment. Has he given you the tools?" " Pie has," replied Bess, producing the handkerchief. "Bravo!" cried Sheppard, examining its contents, which proved to be a file, a chisel, two or three gimblets, and a piercer. "Jonathan Wild shall find it's not easy to detain me. As sure as he's now living, I"ll pay him a visit in the Old Bailey before morning. And then I'll pay off old scores. It's almost worth while being sent to prison, to have the pleasure of escaping. I shall now be able to test my skill." And running on in this way, he carefully concealed the tools. Whether the turnkey entertained any suspicions of the old man, Jack could not tell, but that night he was more than usually rigorous in his search ; and having carefully examined the prison- ers, and finding nothing to excite his suspicions, he departed tolerably satisfied. As soon as he was certain he should be disturbed no more, Jack set to work, and with the aid of the file in less than an hour had freed himself from his fetters. With Bess's assistance he then climbed up to the window, which, as has just been stated, was secured by iron bars of great thickness crossed by a stout bea?n of oak. The very sight of these impediments, would have appalled a less courageous spirit than Sheppard's — but nothing could daunt him. To work then he went, and with wonderful industry filed off two of the iron bars. Just as he completed his operation, the file broke. The oaken beam, nine inches in thickness, was now the sole but most formidable obstacle to his flight. With his gimblet he contrived to bore. a number of holes so close together that at last one end of the bar, being completely pierced through, yielded; and pursuing the same plan with the other extremity, it fell out altogether. This last operation was so fatiguing, that for a short time he was obliged to pause to recover the use of his fingers. He then descended; and having induced Bess to take off some part of her clothing, he tore the gown and petticoat into shreds and twisted them into a sort of rope which he fastened to the lower bars of the window. With some difficulty he contrived to raise her to the window, and with still greater difficulty to squeeze her through it — her bulk being much greater than his own. He then made a sort of running noose, passed it over her body, and taking firmly hold of the bars, prepared to guide her descent. Owro>- GrnuksXa-nix/ ■ TnE disguise. 187 But Bess could scarcely summon resolution enough to hazard the experiment; and it was only on Jack's urgent entreaties, and even threats, that she could be prevailed on to trust herself to the frail tenure of the rope he had prepared. At length, however, she threw herself off; and Jack carefully guiding the rope, she landed in safety. The next moment he was by her side. But the great point was still unaccomplished. They had escaped from the New Prison, it is true ; but the wall of Clerkcn- weII Bridewell, b} r which that jail was formerly surrounded, and which was more than twenty feet high, and protected by for- midable and bristling chevaux Jc /rise, remained to be scaled. Jack, however, had an expedient for mastering this difficulty. He ventured to the great gates, and by inserting his gimbleta into the wood at intervals, so as to form points upon which he could rest his foot, he contrived to ascend them ; and, when at the top, having fastened a portion of his dross to the spikes, he managed, not without considerable risk, to draw up his female companion. Once over the iron spikes, Bess exhibited no reluctance to be let down on the other side of the wall. Having seen his mistress safe down, Jack instantly descended, leaving the best part of his clothes, as a memorial of his flight, to the jailor. And thus he effected his escape from the New Prison. CHAPTER V.— THE DISGUISE. In a hollow in the meadows behind the prison, whence Jack Sheppard had escaped — for, at this time, the whole of the now thickly-peopled district north of Clerkcnwell Bridewell was open country, stretching out in fertile fields in the direction of Islington — and about a quarter of a mile off, stood a solitary hovel, known as Black Mary's Hole. This spot, which still retains its name, acquired the appellation from an old crone who lived there ; and who, in addition to a very equivocal character for honesty, enjoyed the reputation of being a witch. Without enquiring into the correctness of the latter part of the story, it may be sufficient to state, that Black Mary was a person in whom Jack Sheppard thought he could confide, and. as Edge- worth Bess was incapable of much further exertion, he deter- mined to leave her in the old woman's care till the following night, while he shifted for himself and fulfilled his design — for, however rash or hazardous a project might be, if once con- ceived, Jack always executed it — of visiting Jonathan Wild at his house in the Old Bailey. 188 JACK SHEPPARD. It was precisely two o'clock on the morning of NV h 1 1- Monday, the 25th of May, 1724, when the remarkable escape before detailed was completed: and, though it wanted full two hours to daybreak, the glimmer of a waning moon pre- vented it from being totally dark. Casting a hasty glance, as he was about to turn an angle of the wall, at the great gates and upper windows of the prison, and perceiving no symptoms of pursuit, Jack proceeded towards the hovel at a very deliberate pace, carefully assisting his female companion over every obstacle in the road, and bearing her in his arms when, as was more than once the case, she sank from fright and exhaustion. In this way he crossed one or two public gardens and a bowling-green — the neighbourhood of Clerkenwell then abounded in such places of amusement — passed the noted Ducking Pond, where Black Mary had been frequently im- mersed ; and, striking off to the left across the fields, arrived in a few minutes at his destination. Descending the hollow, or rather excavation — for it was an old disused clay-pit, at the bottom of which the cottage was situated — he speedily succeeded in arousing the ancient sibyl, and having committed Edge worth Bess to her care, with a promise of an abundant reward in case she watched diligently over her safety, and attended to her comforts till his return — to all which Black Mary readily agreed — he departed with a heart lightened of half its load. Jack's first object was to seek out Blueskin, whom he had no doubt he should find at the New Mint, at Wapping, for the Old Mint no longer afforded a secure retreat to the robber ; and, with this view, he made the best of his way along a by-lane leading towards Hockley-in-the-Hole. He had not proceeded far when he was alarmed by the tramp of a horse, which seemed to be rapidly approaching, and he had scarcely time to leap the hedge and conceal himself behind a tree, when a tall man enveloped in an ample cloak, with his hat pulled over his brows, rode by at full speed. Another horseman followed quickly at the heels of the first ; but just as he passed the spot where Jack stood, his steed missed its footing, and fell. Either ignorant cf the accident, or heedless of it, the foremost horseman pursued his way without even turning his head. Conceiving the opportunity too favourable to be lost, Jack sprang suddenly over the hedge, and before the man, who was floundering on the ground with one foot in the stirrup, could extricate himself from his embarrassing position, secured his pistols, which he drew from the holsters, and held them to his head. The fellow swore lustily, in a voice which Jack instantly recognised as that of Quilt Arnold, and vainly attempted to rise and draw his sword. THE DISGUISE. ISO " Dog!" thundered Sheppard, putting the muzzle of the pistol 90 close to the janizary's ear, that the touch of the cold iron made him start, " don't you know me?" " Blood and thunder!" exclaimed Quilt, opening his eyes with astonishment. " It can't be Captain Sheppard!" " It is" replied Jack; " and you had better have met the devil on your road than me. Do you remember what I said when you took me at the Mint, four days ago.' I told you my turn would come. It has come — and sooner than you expected." " So I find, captain," rejoined Quilt, submissively; " but you're too noble-hearted to take advantage of my situation. Besides, I acted for others, and not for myself." " I know it," replied Sheppard, " and therefore I spare your life." " I was sure you wouldn't injure me, captain," remarked Quilt, in a wheedling tone, while he felt about for his sword; " you're far too brave to strike a fallen man." " Ah, traitor!" cried Jack, who had noticed the movement; " make such another attempt, and it shall cost you your life." So saying, he unbuckled the belt to which the janizary's hanger was attached, and fastened it to his own girdle. " And now," he continued, sternly, " was it your master who has just ridden by?" " No," answered Quilt, sullenly. " Who, then?" demanded Jack. " Speak, or I fire!'' " Well, if you wilt have it, it's Sir Rowland Trenchard." "Sir Rowland Trenchard!" echoed Jack, in amazement. " What are you doing with him?" " It's a long story, captain, and I've no breath to tell it — unless you choose to release me," rejoined Quilt. " Get up, then," said Jack, freeing his foot from the stirrup. " Now — begin." Quilt, however, seemed unwilling to speak. " I should be sorry to proceed to extremities," continued Sheppard, again raising the pistol. " Well, since you force me to betray my master's secrets," replied Quilt, sullenly, " I've ridden express to Manchester, to deliver a message to Sir Rowland." " Respecting Thames Darrell ?" observed Jack. "Why, how the devil did you happen to guess that?" cried the janizary. " No matter," replied Sheppard. " I'm glad to find I'm right. You informed Sir Rowland that Thames Darrell was returned?" " Exactly so," replied Quilt, " and he instantly decided upon returning to London with me. We've ridden post all the way, and I'm horribly tired, or you wouldn't have mastered me so easily." " Perhaps not," replied Jack, to whom an idea had suddenly 190 JACK SHEPPAJRD. occurred. " Now, sir, I'll trouble you for your coat. I've left mine on the spikes of the New Prison, and must borrow yours." 11 Why, surely you can't be in earnest, captain. You wouldn't rob Mr. Wild's chief janizary ?" "I'd rob Mr. Wild himself, if I met him," retorted Jack. (t Come, off with it, sirrah, or I'll blow out your brains in the first place, and strip you afterwards." " "Well, rather than you should commit so great a crime, captain, here it is," replied Quilt, handing him the garment in question. " Any thing else ?" " Your waistcoat." '"Zounds! captain, I shall get my death of cold. I was in hopes you'd be content with my hat and wig." " I shall require them as well," rejoined Slieppard ; " and your boots." " My boots ! Fire and fury ! They won't fit you ; they are too large. Besides, how am I to ride home without them?" " Don't distress yourself," returned Jack; "you shall walk. Now," he added, as his commands were reluctantly obeyed, " help me on with them." Quilt knelt down, as if he meant to comply; but, watching his opportunity, he made a sudden grasp at Sheppard's leg, with the intention of overthrowing him. But Jack was too nimble for him. Striking out his foot, he knocked half a dozen teeth down the janizary's throat ; and, seconding the kick with a blow on the head from the but-end of the pistol, stretched him, senseless and bleeding, on the ground. " Like master like man," observed Jack, as he rolled the inani- mate body to the side of the road. " From Jonathan Wild's con- fidential servant what could be expected but treachery?" With this, he proceeded to dress himself in Quilt Arnold's clothes, pulled the wig over his face and eyes so as completely to conceal his features, slouched the hat over his brows, drew the huge boots above his knees, and muffled himself up in the best way he could. On searching the coat, he found, amongst other matters, a mask, a key, and a pocket-book. The latter appeared to contain several papers, which Jack carefully put by, in the hope that they might turn out of importance in a scheme of vengeance which he meditated against the thief-taker. He then mounted the jaded hack, which had long since regained its legs, and was quietly browsing the grass at the road-side, and, striking spurs into its side, rode off. He had not proceeded far when he- encountered Sir Rowland, who, having missed his attendant, had returned to look after him. " What has delayed you?" demanded the knight, impatiently. " My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfec- tion — for he was a capital mimic — the tones of Quilt Arnold. u It was some time before I could get him to move." THE DISGUISE. 101 '-' I fancied I heard voices," rejoined Sir Rowland. " So did I," answered Jack ; " we had better move on. This is a noted place for highwaymen." " I thought yon told me that the rascal who has so long been the terror of the town — Jack Sheppard — was in custody." " So he is," returned Jack; "but there's no saying how long he may remain so. Besides, there are greater rascals than Jack Sheppard at liberty, Sir Rowland." Sir Rowland made no reply, but angrily quickened his pace. The pair then descended Saffron-hill, threaded Field-lane, and, entering Ilolborn, 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. Aware of Quilt Arnold's mode of proceeding, Jack instantly dismounted, and, instead of knocking, opened the door with the pass-key. The porter instantly made his appearance, and Sheppard ordered him to take care of the horses. " Well, what sort of journey have you had, Quilt?" asked the man, as he hastened to assist Sir Rowland to dismount. " Oh ! we've lost no time, as you perceive," replied Jack. " la the governor within?"' " Yes; you'll find him in the audience-chamber. He has got Blueskin with him." " Ah ! indeed ! what's he doing here?" inquired Jack. " Come to buy off Jack Sheppard, I suppose," replied the fellow. "But it won't do. Mr. Wild has made up his mind; and, when that's the case, all the persuasion on earth won't turn him. Jack will be tried to-morrow; and, as sure as my name's Obadiah Lemon, he'll take up his quarters at the King's Head," pointing to Newgate, " over the way." '•Well, we shall sec," replied Jack. "Look to the horses, Obadiah. This way, Sir Rowland." As familiar as Quilt Arnold himself with every part of Wild'.- mvsterious abode, as well as with the ways of its inmates, Jack, without a moment's hesitation, took up a lamp which was burning in the hall, and led his companion up the great stone stairs. Arrived at the audience-chamber, he set down the light upon a stand, threw open the door, and announced in a loud voice, but with the perfect intonation of the person he represented — " Sir Rowland Trenchard." Jonathan, who was engaged in conversation with Blueskin, instantly arose, and bowed with cringing cercmoniousness to the knight. The latter haughtily returned his salutation, and flung himself, as if exhausted, into a chair. "You've arrived sooner than I expected, Sir Rowland," QDserved the thief-taker. " Lost no time on the road — eh ? — I didn't expect you till to-morrow, at the earliest. Excuse me an instant while I dismiss this person. — You've your answer, Blue- 192 JACK SHEPPARD. skin," he added, pushing that individual, who seemed unwilling to depart, towards the door ; " it's useless to urge the matter further. Jack is registered in the Black Book." " One word before I go," urged Blueskin. " Not a syllable," replied Wild. " If you talk as long as an Old Bailey counsel, you'll not alter my determination." " Won't my life do as well as his ?" supplicated the other. " Humph !" exclaimed Jonathan, doubtfully. " And you would surrender yourself — eh ?" " I'll surrender myself at once, if you'll engage to bring him off; and you'll get the reward from old Wood. It's two hundred, pounds. Recollect that." "Faithful fellow!" murmured Jack. "I forgive him his disobedience." " Will you do it?" persisted Blueskin. " No," replied Wild ; " and I've only listened to your absurd proposal to see how far your insane attachment to this lad would carry you." " I do love him," cried Blueskin, " and that's the long and short of it. I've taught him all he can do; and there isn't his fellow, and never will be again. I've seen many a clever cracksman, but never one like him. If you hang Jack Sheppard, you'll cut off the flower o' the purfession. But I'll not believe it of you. It's all very well to read him a lesson, and teach him obedience ; but you've gone far enough for that."' " Not quite," rejoined the thief-taker, significantly. 11 Well," growled Blueskin, "you've had my offer.' "And you my warning," retorted Wild. " Good-night!" " Blueskin," whispered Jack, in his natural tones, as the other passed him, " wait without." "Powers o' mercy !" cried Blueskin, starting. " What's the matter?" demanded Jonathan, harshly. " Nothin' — nothin'," returned Blueskin ; " only I thought " " You saw the hangman, no doubt," said Jack. " Take cou- rage, man ; it is only Quilt Arnold. Come, make yourself scarce. Don't you see Mr. AVild's busy." And then he added, in an under tone, " Conceal yourself outside, and be within call." Blueskin nodded, and left the room. Jack affected to close the door, but left it slightly ajar. "What did you say to him?" inquired Jonathan, suspiciously. " I advised him not to trouble you farther about Jack Sheppard," answered the supposed janizary. " He seems infatuated about the lad," observed Wild. " I shall be obliged to hang him, to keep him company. And now, Sir Rowland," he continued, turning to the knight, " to our own concerns. It's a long time since we met, eight years and more. I hope you've enjoyed your health. 'S life ! you are wonderfully altered. I should scarcely have known you." THE DISGUISE. 193 The knight was indeed greatly changed. Though not much passed the middle term of life, he seemed prematurely stricken with old age. His frame was wasted, and slightly bent ; his eyes were hollow, his complexion haggard, and his beard, which had remained unshorn during his hasty journey, was perfectly white. His manner, however, was as stern and haughty as ever, and his glances retained their accustomed fire. " I did not come hither to consult you as to the state cf my health, sir," he observed, displeased by Jonathan's allusion io the alteration of his appearance. " True," replied Wild. " You were no doubt surprised by the unlooked-for intelligence I sent you of your nephew's return ?" " Was it unlooked-for on your part?" demanded the knight, distrustfully. "On my soul, yes," rejoined Jonathan. "I should as soon have expected the bones of Tom Sheppard to reunite themselves and walk out of that case, as Thames Darrell to return. The skipper, Van Galgebrok, affirmed to me — nay, gave me the addi- tional testimony of two of his crew — that he was thrown over- board. But it appears he was picked up by fishermen, and carried to France, where he has remained ever since, and where it would have been well for him if he had remained altogether." " Have you seen him 1 ?" asked Trenchard. " I have," replied Wild ; " and nothing but the evidence of my senses would have made me believe he was living, after the positive assurance I received to the contrary. He is at present with Mr. Wood — the person whom you may remember adopted him — at Dollis Hill, near Willesden ; and it's a singular but for- tunate circumstance, so far as we are concerned, that Mrs. Wood chanced to be murdered by Blueskin, the fellow who just left the room, on the very night of his return, as it has thrown the house into such confusion, and so distracted them, that he has had no time as yet for hostile movements." "And what course do you propose to pursue in reference to him ! " asked Sir Rowland. " My plan is a very simple one," rejoined the thief-taker, smil- ing bitterly. " I would treat him as you treated his father Sir Rowland, " " Murder him !" cried Trenchard, shuddering. "Ay, murder him, if you like the term," returned Wild. " I should call it putting him out of the way. But, no matter how you phrase it, the end is the same." " I cannot consent to it," replied Sir Rowland firmly. " Since the sea has spared him, I will spare him. It is in vain to struggle against the arm of fate. I will shed no more blood." "And perish upon the gibbet," rejoined Jonathan, contemptu^ ously. 194 JACK SHEl'PAHD. * " Flight is still left me," replied Trenchard. " I can escape to France." " And do you think I'll allow you to depart," cried Jonathan in a menacing tone, " and compromise my safety ? No, no. We are linked together in this matter, and must go through with it. You cannot — shall not retreat." " Death and hell!" cried Sir Rowland, rising and drawing his sword; " do you think you can shackle my free-will, villain?" "In this particular instance I do, Sir Rowland," replied Jona- than, calmly, " because you are wholly in my power. But be patient, I am your fast friend. Thames Darrell MUST die. Our mutual safety requires it. Leave the means to me." " More blood ! more blood !" cried Trenchard, passing his hand with agony across his brow. " Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch — the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair! — the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach ! — And must another be added to their number — their son ! — Horror ! — let me be spared this new crime ! And yet the gibbet — my name tarnished — my escutcheon blotted by the hangman ! — No, I cannot submit to that." " I should think not," observed Jonathan, who had some prac- tice in the knight's moods and knew how to humour him. " It's a miserable weakness to be afraid of bloodshed. The general who gives an order for wholesale carnage never sleeps a wink the less soundly for the midnight groans of his victims, and we should deride him as a coward if he did. And life is much the same, whether taken in battle, on the couch, or by the road-side. Be- sides those whom I've slain with my own hands, I've brought upwards of thirty persons to the gallows. Most of their relics are in yonder cases; but I don't remember that any of them have disturbed my rest. The mode of destruction makes no difference. It's precisely the same thing to me to bid my janizaries cut Thames DarreU's throat, as to order Jack Sheppard's execution." As Jonathan said this, Jack's hand involuntarily sought a pistol. " But to the point," continued Wild, unconscious of the peril in which the remark had placed him — " to the point. On the terms that procured your liberation from Newgate, I will free you from this new danger." " Those terms were a third of my estate," observed Trenchard, bitterly. " What of that ? " rejoined Jonathan. " Any price was better than your head. If Thames Darrell escapes, you will lose both life and property." u True, true," replied the knight, with an agonized look; u there is no alternative." " None whatever," rejoined Wild. " Is it a bargain?" *f Take half of my estate — take all — my life, if you will — I am weary of it!" cried Trenchard passionatelv. THE DISGUISE. 1 ( .>5 " No," replied Jonathan, " I'll not take you at your word, as regards the latter proposition. We shall both, I hope, live to enjoy our shares — long after Thames Darrell is forgotten — ha! W A third of your estate I accept. And as these things should always be treated as matters of business, I'll just draw up a me- morandum of our arrangement." And, as he spoke, he took up a sheet of paper, and hastily traced a few lines upon it. " Sign this," he said, pushing the document towards Sir Rowland. The knight mechanically complied with his request. "Enough!" cried Jonathan, eagerly pocketing the memoran- dum. " And now, in return for your liberality, I'll inform you of a secret with which it is important you should be acquainted." " A secret!" exclaimed Trenehard. " Concerning whom'?" u Mrs. Shcppard," replied Jonathan, mysteriously. "Mrs. Shcppard!" echoed Jack, surprised out of his caution. "Ah!" exclaimed Wild, looking angrily towards his supposed attendant. " I beg pardon, sir," replied Jack, with the accent and manner of the janizary; " I was betrayed into the exclamation by my surprise that any thing in which Sir Rowland Trenehard was interested could have reference to so humble a person as Mrs. Shcppard." " 13c pleased, then, in future, not to let your surprise find vent in words," rejoined Jonathan, sternly. " My servants, like Eastern mutes, must have eyes, and ears — and hands, if need be — but no tongues. You understand me, sirrah?" " Perfectly," replied Jack. " I'm dumb." " Your secret ? " demanded Trenehard, impatiently. " I need not remind you, Sir Rowland," replied Wild, " that you had two sisters — Aliva and Constance." " Both are dead," observed the knight, gloomily. " Not so," answered Wild. " Constance is yet living." " Constance alive ! Impossible!" ejaculated Trenehard. " I've proofs to the contrary," replied Jonathan. "If this is the case, where is she?" " In Bedlam," replied the thief-taker, with a satanic grin. " Gracious heaven !" exclaimed the knight, upon whom a light seemed suddenly to break. " You mentioned Mrs. Sheppard. What has she to do with Constance Trenehard?" " Mrs. Sheppard is Constance Trenehard," replied Jonathan, maliciously. Here Jack Sheppard was unable to repress an exclamation of astonishment. "Again," cried Jonathan, sternly: "beware!" "What!" vociferated Trenehard. " My sister the wife of one condemned felon ! the parent of another ! It cannot be," " It is so, nevertheless,'' replied Wild " Stolen by a gipsy, 196 JACK SHEPPARD. when scarcely five years old, Constance Trenchard, after various vicissitudes, was carried to London, where she lived in great poverty, with the dregs of society. It is useless to trace out her miserable career ; though I can easily do so, if you require it. To preserve herself, however, from destitution, or what she considered worse, she wedded a journeyman carpenter, named Sheppard." rt Alas ! that one so highly born should submit to such a degra- dation !" groaned the knight. " I see nothing surprising in it," rejoined Jonathan. " In the first place, she had no knowledge of her birth ; and, consequently, no false pride to get rid of. In the second, she was wretchedly poor, and assailed by temptations of which you can form no idea. Distress like hers might palliate far greater offences than she ever committed. With the same inducements we should all do the same thing. Poor girl! she was beautiful once; so beauti- ful as to make me, who care little for the allurements of women, fancy myself enamoured of her." Jack Sheppard again sought his pistol, and was only withheld from levelling it at the thief-taker's head, by the hope that he might gather some further information respecting his mother. And he had good reason before long to congratulate himself on his forbearance. u What proof have you of the truth of this story?" inquired Trenchard. " This," replied Jonathan, taking a paper from a portfolio, and handing it to the knight, " this written evidence, signed by Martha Cooper, the gipsy, by whom the girl was stolen, and who was afterwards executed for a similar crime. It is attested, you will observe, by the Reverend Mr. Purney, the present ordinary of Newgate." " I am acquainted with Mr. Purney's handwriting," said Jack, advancing, " and can at once decide whether this is a forgery or not." " Look at it, then," said Wild, giving him the portfolio. " It's the ordinary's signature, undoubtedly," replied Jack. And, as he gave back the portfolio to Sir Rowland, he contrived, unobserved, to slip the precious document into his sleeve, and from thence into his pocket. " And does any of our bright blood flow in the veins of a ruf- fianly housebreaker % " cried Trenchard, with a look of bewilder- ment. " I'll not believe it." " Others may, if you won't," muttered Jack, retiring. " Thank heaven ! I'm not basely born." " Now, mark me," said Jonathan, " and you'll find I don't do things by halves. By your father, Sir Montacute Trenchard's will, you are aware — and, therefore, I need not repeat it, except for the special purpose I have in view — you are aware, I say, that, by this will, in case your sister Aliva died without issue, or, THE DISGUISE. 197 on the death of such issue, the property reverts to Constance and her issue." " I hear," said Sir Rowland, moodily. " And I," muttered Jack. u Thames Darrell once destroyed," pursued Jonathan, " Con- stance — or, rather, Mrs. Sheppard — becomes entitled to the estates; which eventually — provided he escaped the gallows — would descend to her son." " Ha!" exclaimed Jack, drawing in his breath, and leaning for- ward with intense curiosity. i( Well, sir?" gasped Sir Rowland. " But this need give you no uneasiness," pursued Jonathan ; " Mrs. Sheppard, as I told you, is in Bedlam, an incurable maniac; while her son is in the New Prison, whence he will only be removed to Newgate and Tyburn." " So you think," muttered Jack, between his ground teeth. tl To make your mind perfectly easy on the score of Mrs. Sheppard," continued Jonathan ; " after we've disposed of Thames Darrell, I'll visit her in Bedlam; and, as I understand I form one of her chief terrors, I'll give her such a fright that I'll engage she sha'n't long survive it." " Devil!" muttered Jack, again grasping his pistol. But, feel- ing secure of vengeance, he determined to abide his time. " And now, having got rid of the minor obstacles," said Jona- than, " I'll submit a plan for the removal of the main difficulty. Thames Darrell, I've said, is at Mr. Wood's, at Dollis-hill, wholly unsuspicious of any designs against him, and, in fact, entirely ignorant of your being acquainted with his return, or even of his existence. In this state, it will be easy to draw him into a snare. To-morrow night — or rather to-night, for we are fast verging on another day — I propose to lure him out of the house by a stra- tagem which I am sure will prove infallible; and then, what so easy as to knock him on the head. To make sure work of it, I'll superintend the job myself. Before midnight, I'll answer for it, it shall be done. My janizaries shall go with me. You hear what I say, Quilt?" he added, looking at Jack. " I do," replied Sheppard. u Abraham Mendez will like the task — for he has entertained a hatred to the memory of Thames Darrell ever since he received the wound in the head, when the two lads attempted to break out of St. Giles's roundhouse. I've despatched him to the New Prison. But I expect him back every minute." " The New Prison!" exclaimed Sheppard. " What is he gone there for?" " With a message to the turnkey to look after his prisoner,* replied Wild, with a cunning smile. "Jack Sheppard had a visiter, I understand, yesterday, and may make an attempt to escape. It's as well to be on the safe side." 198 JACK SnEFI'ARD. " It is," replied Jack. At this moment, his quick ears detected the sound of footsteps on the stairs. He drew both his pistols, and prepared for a des- perate encounter. " There is another mystery I would have solved," said Trenchard, addressing Wild ; " you have told me much, but not enough." "What do you require further?" asked Jonathan. " The name and rank of Thames DarreH's father," said the knight. " Another time," replied the thief-taker, evasively. "I will have it now," rejoined Trenchard, " or our agreement is void." " You cannot help yourself, Sir Rowland," replied Jonathan, contemptuously. " Indeed !" replied the knight, drawing his sword, " the secret, villain, or I will force it from you." Before Wild could make any reply, the door was thrown vio- lently open, and Abraham Mendez rushed into the room, with a face of the utmost consternation. " He hash eshcaped!" cried the Jew. "Who? Jack!" exclaimed Jonathan. " Yesh," replied Abraham. " I vent to de New Prish'n, and on wishitin' his shell vid de turnkey, vot should ve find but de shams on de ground, de vinder broken, and Jack and Agevorth Besh gone." "Damnation!" cried Jonathan, stamping his foot with uncon- trollable rage. " I'd rather have given a thousand pounds than this had happened. But he might have broken out of prison, and yet not got over the wall of Clerkenwell Bridewell. Did you search the yard, fool V " Ve did," replied Abraham ; " and found his fine goat and ruffles torn to shtrips on de shpikes near de creat cate. It vosh plain he vent dat vay." Jonathan gave utterance to a torrent of imprecations. While he thus vented his rage, the door again opened, and Quilt Arnold rushed into the room, bleeding, and hall-dressed. "'Sblood! what's this?" cried Jonathan, in the utmost sur- prise. " Quilt Arnold, is that you?" " It is, sir," sputtered the janizary. " I've been robbed, mal- treated, and nearly murdered, by Jack Sheppard." "By Jack Sheppard!" exclaimed the thief-taker. " Yes : and I hope you'll take ample vengeance upon him/* said Quilt. " I will, when I catch him, rely on it," rejoined Wild. " You needn't go far to do that," returned Quilt ; " there he stands." " Ay, here I am," said Jack, throwing off his hat and wig, and marching towards the group, amongst whom there was a general THE DisuUISE. 1f the pile rose a larger dome, surmounted by a gilded ball and vane. The asylum was approached by a broad gravel walk, leading through a garden edged on either side by a stone balustrade, and shaded by tufted trees. A wide terrace then led to large iron gates, over which were placed the two celebrated figures of Raving and Melancholy Madness, executed by the elder Cibber, and commemorated by Pope in the Dunciad, in the well-known lines: — " Close to those walls where folly holds her throne, And laughs to think Monroe would take her down, Where, o'er the gates, by his famed father's hand, Great (Jibber's brazen, brainless brothers stand." OLD BEDLAM. 213 Internally, it was divided by two long galleries, one over the other. These galleries were separated in the middle by iron grates. The wards on the right were occupied by male patients, on the left by the females. In the centre of the upper gallery was a spacious saloon, appropriated to the governors of the asylum. But the besetting evil of the place, and that which drew down, the severest censures of the writers above mentioned, was that this spot — which of all others should have been most free from such intrusion — was made a public exhibition. There all the loose characters thronged, assignations were openly made, and the spectators diverted themselves with the vagaries of its miser- able inhabitants. Entering the outer gate, and traversing the broad gravel walk before mentioned, Jack ascended the steps, and was admitted, on feeing the porter, by another iron gate, into the hospital. Here he was almost stunned by the deafening clamour resounding on all sides. Some of the lunatics were rattling their chains ; some shrieking; some singing; some beating with frantic violence against the doors. Altogether, it was the most dreadful noise he had ever heard. Amidst it all, however, there were several light- hearted and laughing groups walking from cell to cell, to whom all this misery appeared matter of amusement. The doors of several of the wards were thrown open for these parties, and as Jack passed, he could not help glancing at the wretched inmates. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. There was a mad musician, seemingly rapt in admiration of the notes he was extracting from a child's violin. Here was a terrific figure gnash- ing his teeth, and howling like a wild beast; — there a lover, with hands clasped together, and eyes turned passionately upward. In this cell was a huntsman, who had fractured his skull while hunting, and was perpetually hallooing after the hounds ; — in that, the most melancholy of all, the grinning gibbering lunatic, the realization of " moody madness, laughing wild." Hastening from this heart-rending spectacle, Jack soon reached the grating that divided the men's compartment from that appro- priated to the women. Inquiring for Mrs. Sbeppard, a matron offered to conduct him to her cell. " You'll find her quiet enough to-day, sir," observed the woman, as they walked along ; " but she has been very outrageous latterly. Her nurse says she may live some time ; but she seems to me to be sinking fast;' "Heaven help her!" sighed Jack. "I hope not." " Her release would be a mercy," pursued the matron. u Oh! sir, if you'd seen her as I've seen her, you'd not wish her a con- tinuance of misery."' As Jack made no reply, the woman proceeded — 214 JACK SI1EPPARD. " They say her son's taken at last, and is to be hanged. I'm glad pf it, I'm sure ; for it's all owing to him his poor mother's here. See what crime does, sir. Those who act wickedly bring misery on all connected with them. And so gentle as the poor creature is, when she's not in her wild fits — it would melt a heart of stone to see her. She will cry for days and nights together. If Jack Sheppard could behold his mother in this state, he'd have a lesson he'd never forget — ay, and a severer one than even the hangman could read him. Hardened as he may be, that would touch him. But he has never been near her — never." Rambling in this way, the matron at length came to a halt, and taking out a key, pointed to a door and said, " This is Mrs. Sheppard's ward, sir." " Leave us together, my good woman," said Jack, putting a guinea into her hand. " As long as you please, sir," answered the matron, dropping a curtsy. " There, sir," she added, unlocking the door, " you can go in. Don't be frightened of her. She's not mischievous—- <\nd besides she's chained, and can't reach you." So saying, she retired, and Jack entered the cell. Prepared as he was for a dreadful shock, and with his nerves strung to endure it, Jack absolutely recoiled before the appalling object that met his gaze. Cowering in a corner upon a heap of straw, sat his unfortunate mother, the complete wreck of what she had been. Her eyes glistened in the darkness — for light was only admitted through a small grated window — like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their ' glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. A piece of old blanket was fastened across her shoul- ders, and she had no other clothing except a petticoat. Her arms and feet were uncovered, and of almost skeleton thinness. Her features were meagre, and ghastly white, and had the fixed and horrible stamp of insanity. Her head had been shaved, and around it was swathed a piece of rag, in which a few straws were stuck. Her thin fingers were armed with nails as long as the talons of a bird. A chain, riveted to an iron belt encircling her waist, bound her to the wall. The cell in which she was confined was about six feet long and four wide ; the walls were scored all over with fantastic designs, snatches of poetry, short sentences and names — the work ot its former occupants, and of its present inmate. When Jack entered the cell, she was talking to herself in the muttering unconnected way peculiar to her distracted condition-, but, after her eye had rested on him some time, the fixed expres- sion of her features relaxed, and a smile crossed them. This smile was more harrowing even than her former rigid look. " You are an angel," she cried, with a look beaming with delight. " Rather a devil," groaned her son, " to have done this." ' OLD BEDLAM. 215 " You are an angel, I say," continued the pojr maniac ; " and my Jack would have been like you, if he had lived. But he died when he was a child — lonij airo — lone: a — Ion"; afro." " Would he had done so !" cried Jack. " Old Van told me if he grew up he would be hanged. He 6howed me a black mark under his ear where the noose would be tied. And so I'll tell you what I did—" And she burst into a laugh that froze Jack's blood in his veins. " What did you do ? " he asked in a broken voice. " I strangled him — ha ! ha ! ha ! — strangled him while he was at my breast — ha! ha!" — And then with a sudden and fearful change of look, she added, " That's what has driven me mad. I killed my child to save him from the gallows — oh ! oh ! One man hanged in a family is enough. If I'd not gone mad, they would have hanged me." "Poor soul!" ejaculated her son. "I'll tell you a dream I had last night," continued the unfortu- nate being. " I was at Tyburn. There was a gallows erected, and a great mob round it — thousands of people, and all with white faces like corpses. In the midst of them there was a cart with a man in it — and that man was Jack — my son Jack — they were going to hang him. And opposite to him, with a book in his hand — but it couldn't be a prayer-book — sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. I knew him in spite of his dress. And when they came to the gallows, Jack leaped out of the cart, and the hangman tied up Jonathan instead — ha ! ha ! How the mob shouted and huzzaed — and I shouted, too — ha! ha! ha!" "Mother!" cried Jack, unable to endure this agonizing scene longer. "Don't vou know me, mother?" "Ah!" shrieked Mrs. Sheppard. "What's that?- Jack's voice !" " It is," replied her son. " The ceiling is breaking ! the floor is opening ! he is coming to me !" cried the unhappy woman. " He stands before you," rejoined her son. " Where?" she cried. " I can't see him. Where is he ?" " Here," answered Jack. " Are you his ghost, then ?" " No — no," answered Jack. " I am your most unhappy son." " Let me touch you, then ; let me feel if you are really flesh and blood," cried the poor maniac, creeping towards him on all fours. Jack did not advance to meet her. He could not move ; but stood like one stupefied, with his hands clasped together, and eyes almost starting out of their sockets, fixed upon his unfortu- nate parent. " Come to me !" cried the poor maniac, who had crawled as far as the chain would permit her — "come to me!" she cried, extending her thin arm towards him. 2 I 6 JACK SIIEPPARD. Jack fell on liis knees beside her. "Who are you?" inquired Mrs. Sheppard, passing her hands over his face, and gazing at him with a look that made him shudder. " Your son," replied Jack — " your miserable, repentant son." " It is false," cried Mrs. Sheppard. " You are not. Jack was not half your age when he died. They buried him in Willesden churchyard after the robbery." " Oh, God!" cried Jack, "she does not know me. Mother — dear mother!" he added, clasping her in his arms. "Look at me again." "Off!' she exclaimed, breaking from his embrace with a scream. "Don't touch me. I'll be quiet. I'll not speak of Jack or Jonathan. I won't dig their graves with my nails. Don't strip me quite. Leave me my blanket ! I'm very cold at night. Or, if you must take off my clothes, don't dash cold water on my head. It throbs cruelly." " Horror !" cried Jack. " Don't scourge me," she cried, trying to hide herself in the farthest corner of the cell. " The lash cuts to the bone. I can't bear it. Spare me, and I'll be quiet — quiet — quiet !" "Mother!" said Jack, advancing towards her. " Off!" she cried with a prolonged and piercing shriek. And she buried herself beneath the straw, which she tossed above her head with the wildest gestures. " I shall kill her if I stay longer," muttered her son, completely terrified. While he was considering what would be best to do, the poor maniac, over whose bewildered brain another change had come, raised her head from under the straw, and, peeping round the room, asked in a low voice, " If they were gone?" " Who ?" inquired Jack. " The nurses," she answered. " Do they treat you ill 1 " asked her son. "Hush!" she said, putting her lean fingers to her lips. tl Hush ! — come hither, and I'll tell you." Jack approached her. " Sit beside me," continued Mrs. Sheppard. " And, now I'll tell you what they do. Stop ! we must shut the door, or they'll catch us. See!" she added, tearing the rag from her head — "I had beautiful black hair once. But they cut it all off." " I shall go mad myself if I listen to her longer," said Jack, attempting to rise. " I must go." "Don't stir, or they'll chain you to the wall," said his mother detaining him. " Now, tell me why they brought you here?" " I came to see you, dear mother !" answered Jack. "Mother!" she echoed, — "mother! why do you call me by that name ?" OLD BEDLAM. 217 " Because you are my mother." " What ! " she exclaimed, staring eagerly in his face. " Are you my son ! x\re you Jack?" " I am," replied Jack. u Heaven be praised she knows me at last ! " "Oh, Jack!" cried his mother, falling upon his neck, and covering him with kisses. " Mother — dear mother !" said Jack, bursting into tears. " You will never leave me," sobbed the poor woman, straining him to her breast. "Never — never !" The words were scarcely pronounced, when the door was violently thrown open, and two men appeared at it. They were Jonathan Wild and Quilt Arnold. "Ah !" exclaimed Jack, starting to his feet. " Just in time," said the thief-taker. " You are my prisoner, Jack." "You shall take my life first," rejoined Sheppard. And, as he was about to put himself into a posture of defence, his mother clasped him in her arms. "They shall not harm you, my love!" she exclaimed. The movement was fatal to her son. Taking advantage of his embarrassed position, Jonathan and his assistant rushed upon him, and disarmed him. "Thank you, Mrs. Sheppard," cried the thief-taker, as he slipped a pair of handcuffs over Jack's wrists, " for the help you have given us in capturing your son. Without you, we might have had some trouble." Aware, apparently in some degree, of the mistake she had com- mitted, the poor maniac sprang towards him with frantic violence, and planted her long nails in his check. " Keep oil, you accursed jade !" roared Jonathan — " Keep off, I say, or " And he struck her a violent blow with his clenched hand. The miserable woman staggered, uttered a deep groan, and fell senseless on the straw. " Devil !" cried Jack ; " that blow shall cost you your life." "It'll not need to be repeated, at all events," rejoined Jona- than, looking with a smile of malignant satisfaction at the body. "And, now — to Newgate." CHAPTER IX.— OLD NEWGATE. At the beginning of the twelfth century — whether in the rcigii of Henry the First or Stephen is uncertain — a fifth gate was added to the four principal entrances of the city of London ; 218 JACK SIIEITARD. then, it is almost needless to say, surrounded by ramparts, moats, and other defences. This gate, called Newgale, " as being late- lier builded than the rest," continued, for upwards of three hun- dred years, to be used as a place of imprisonment for felons and trespassers ; at the end of which time, having grown old, ruinous, and " horribly loathsome," it was rebuilt and enlarged by the executors of the renowned Sir Richard Whittington, the Lord Mayor of London: whence it afterwards obtained amongst a cer- tain class of students, whose examinations were conducted with some strictness at the Old Bailey, and their highest degrees taken at Hyde-park corner, the appellation of Whittington's College, or, more briefly the Whit. It may here be mentioned that this gate, destined to bequeath its name — a name, which has since acquired a terrible significance — to every successive structure erected upon its site, was granted, in 1400, by charter by Henry the Sixth to the citizens of London, in return for their loyal ser- vices, and thenceforth became the common jail to that city, and the county of Middlesex. Nothing material occurred to New- gate, until the memorable year 1666, when it was utterly destroyed by the Great Fire. It is with the building raised after this dire- ful calamity that our history has to deal. Though by no means so extensive or commodious as the mo- dern prison, Old Newgate was a large and strongly-built pile. The body of the edifice stood on the south side of Newgate Street, and projected at the western extremity far into the area opposite St. Sepulchre's Church. One small wing lay at the north of the gate, where Giltspur Street Compter now stands; and the Press Yard, which was detached from the main building, was situated at the back of Phcenix Court. The south or princi- pal front, looking down the Old Bailey, and not upon it, as is the case of the present structure, with its massive Avails of roughened freestone — in some places darkened by the smoke, in others blanched by exposure to the weather — its heavy projecting cor- nice, its unglazed doubly-grated windows, its gloomy porch deco- rated Avith fetters, and defended by an enormous iron door, had a stern and striking effect. Over the Lodge, upon a dial, Avas in- scribed the appropriate motto, " Venio sicut far. 1 * The Gate, which crossed Newgate Street, had a Avide arch for caniages, and a postern, on the north side, for foot-passengers. Its architecture Avas richly ornamental, and resembled the style of a triumphal entrance to a capital, rather than a dungeon, haAdng battlements and hexagonal towers, and being adorned on the Avestern side Avith a triple range of pilasters of the Tuscan order, amid the inter-columniations of Avhieh Avere niches embellished with statues. The chief of these was a figure of Liberty, Avith a cat at her feet, in allusion to the supposed origin of the fortunes of its former founder, Sir Richard Whittington. On the right of the postern against the Avail Avas affixed a small grating, sustaining the OLD NEWGATE. 219 debtor's box ; and any pleasure which the passer-by might derive from contemplating the splendid structure above described, was damped at beholding the pale faces and squalid figures of the cap- tives across the bars of its strongly-grated windows. Some years after the date of this history, an immense ventilator was placed at the top of the Gate, with the view of purifying the prison, which, owing to its insufficient space and constantly crowded state, was never free from that dreadful and contagious disorder, now hap- pily unknown, the jail-fever. So frightful, indeed, were the ravages of this malady, to which debtors and felons were alike exposed, that its miserable victims were frequently carried out by cart-loads, and thrown into a pit in the burial-ground of Christ- church, without ceremony. Old Newgate was divided into three separate prisons — the Master's Side, the Common Side, and the Press Yard. The first of these, situated at the south of the building, with the exception of one ward over the gateway, was allotted to the better class of debtors, whose funds enabled them to defray their chamber-rent, fees, and garnish. The second, comprising the bulk of the jail, and by many degrees worse in point of accommodation, having several dismal and noisome wards under ground, was common both to debtors and malefactors — an association little favourable to the morals or comforts of the former, who, it they wore brought there with any notions of honesty, seldom left with untainted principles. The last — in all respects the best and airiest of the three, stand- ing, as has been before observed, in Phoenix Court, at the rear of the main fabric — was reserved for state-offenders, and such per- sons as chose to submit to the extortionate demands of the keeper : from twenty to five hundred pounds premium, according to the rank and means of the applicant, in addition to a high weekly rent, being required for accommodation in this quarter. Some excuse for this rapacity may perhaps be found in the fact, th&t five thousand pounds was paid for the purchase of the Press Yard by Mr. Pitt, the then governor of Newgate. This gentleman, tried for high treason, in 1716, on suspicion of aiding Mr. Forster, the rebel general's escape, but acquitted, reaped a golden harvest during the occupation of his premises by the Preston rebels, when a larger sum was obtained for a single chamber than (in the words of a sufferer on the occasion) " would have paid the rent of the best house in Saint James's Square or Piccadilly for several years." Nor was this all. Other, and more serious impositions, inas- much as they affected a poorer class of persons, were practised by the underlings of the jail. On his first entrance, a prisoner, if Unable or unwilling to comply with the exactions of the turnkeys, was thrust into the Condemned Hold with the worst description of criminals, and terrified by threats into submission. By the old regulations, the free use of strong liquors not being interdict' 220 JACK SHEPPARD. ed, a tap-house was kept in the Lodge, and also in a cellar on the Common Side — under the superintendence of Mrs. Spurling, formerly, it may be remembered, the hostess of the Dark House at Queenhithe — whence wine, ale, and brandy of inferior quality were dispensed, in false measures, and at high prices, throughout the prison, which in noise and debauchery rivalled, if it did not surpass, the lowest tavern. The chief scene of these disgusting orgies — the cellar, just re- ferred to — was a large low-roofed vault, about four feet below the level of the street, perfectly dark, unless when illumined by a roaring fire, and candles stuck in pyramidal lumps of clay, with a range of butts and barrels at one end, and benches and tables at the other, where the prisoners, debtors and malefactors, male and female, assembled as long as their money lasted, and con- sumed the time in drinking, smoking, and gaming with cards and dice. Above was a spacious hall, connected with it by a flight of stone steps, at the further end of which stood an immense grated door, called in the slang of the place " The Jigger," through the bars of which the felons in the upper wards were allowed to con- verse with their friends, or if they wished to enter the room, or join the revellers below, they were at liberty to do so, on pay- ment of a small fine. Thus, the same system of plunder was everywhere carried on. The jailers robbed the prisoners: the prisoners robbed one another. Two large wards were situated in the Gate ; one of which, the Stone Ward, appropriated to the master debtors, looked towards Holborn; the other, called the Stone Hall, from a huge stone standing in the middle of it, upon which the irons of criminals under sentence of death were knocked off previously to their being taken to the place of execution, faced Newgate-street. Here the prisoners took exercise; and a quaint, but striking- picture has been left of their appearance when so engaged, by the author of the English Rogue. fi At my first being acquainted with the place," says this writer, in the ' Miseries of a Prison,' ■" the prisoners, methought, walking up and down the Stone Hall, looked like so many wrecks upon the sea. Here the ribs of a thousand pounds beating against the Needles — those dangerous rocks, credulity; here floated, to and fro, silks, stuffs, camlets, and velvet, without giving place to each other, according to their dignity; here rolled so many pipes of canary, whose bungholes lying open, were so damaged that the merchant may go hoop for his money." A less picturesque, but more truthful, and there- fore more melancholy, description of the same scene, is furnished by the shrewd and satirical Ned Ward, who informs us, in the " Delectable History of Whittington's College," that " when the prisoners are disposed to recreate themselves with walking, Jthey go up into a spacious room, called the Stone Hall; where, when you see them taking a turn together, it would puzzle one OLD NEWGATE. 222 to know which is the gentleman, which the mechanic, and which the beggar, for they are all suited in the same garb of squalid poverty, making a spectacle of more pity than executions; only to be out at the elbows is in fashion here, and a great indecorum not to be threadbare." In an angle of the Stone Hall was the Iron Hold, a chamber containing a vast assortment of fetters and handcuffs of all weights and sizes. Four prisoners, termed " The Partners," had charge of this hold. Their duty was to see who came in, or went out; to lock up, and open the different wards; to fetter such prisoners as were ordered to be placed in irons; to distribute the allow- ances of provision; and to maintain some show of decorum; for which latter purpose they were allowed to carry whips and truncheons. When any violent outrage was committed — and such matters were of daily, sometimes hourly, occurrence — a bell, the rope of which descended into the hall, brought the whole of the turnkeys to their assistance. A narrow passage at the north of the Stone Hall led to the Bluebeard's room of this enchanted castle, a place shunned even by the reckless crew who were com- pelled to pass it. It was a sort of cooking-room, with an immense fireplace flanked by a couple of caldrons, and was called Jack Ketclfs Kitchen, because the quarters of persons executed for treason were there boiled by the hangman in oil, pitch, and tar, before they were affixed on the city gates, or on London Bridge. Above this revolting spot was the female debtor's ward; below it a gloomy cell, called Tangier; and, lower still, the Stone Hold, a, most terrible and noisome dungeon, situated underground, and unvisited by a single ray of daylight. Built and paved with stone, without beds, or any other sort of protection from the cold, this dreadful hole, accounted the most dark and dismal in the prison, Avas made the receptacle of such miserable wretches as could not pay the customary fees. Adjoining it was the Lower Ward — u Though, in what degree of latitude it was situated," observes Ned Ward, " I cannot positively demonstrate, unless it lay ninety degrees beyond the North Pole; for, instead of being dark there but half a year, it is dark all the year round." It was only a shade better than the Stone Hold. Here were imprisoned the fines; and, "perhaps," adds the before-cited authority, " if he behaved himself, an outlawed person might creep in among them/' Ascending the gate once more on the way back, we find over the Stone Hall another large room, called Debtors' Hall, facing New r - gate-street, with " very good air and light." A little too much of the former, perhaps; as the windows being unglazed, the prisoners were subjected to severe annoyance from the weather and easterly winds. Of the women felon's rooms nothing has yet been said. There were two. One called Waterman's Hall, a horrible place ad- joining the postern under the gate, whence, through a smell 222 JACK SMEITAfiD. barred aperture, they solicited alms from the passengers : the other, a large chamber, denominated My Lady's Hold, was situated in the highest part of the jail, at the northern extremity. Neither of these wards had beds, and the unfortunate inmates were obliged to take their rest on the oaken floor. The condition of the rooms was indescribably filthy and disgusting; nor were the habits of the occupants much more cleanly. In other respects, they were equally indecorous and offensive. " It is with no small concern," writes an anonymous historian of Newgate, " that I am obliged to observe that the women in every ward of this prison are exceedingly worse than the worst of the men, not only in respect to their mode of living, but more especially as to their conversation, which, to their great shame, is as profane and wicked as hell itself can possibly be." There were two Condemned Holds — one for each sex. That for the men lay near the Lodge, with which it was connected by a dark passage. It was a large room, about twenty feet long and fifteen broad, and had an arched stone roof. In fact, it had been anciently the right hand postern under the gate leading towards the city. The floor was planked with oak, and covered with iron staples, hooks, and ring-bolts, with heavy chains attached to them. There was only one small grated window in Viis hold, which admitted but little light. Over the gateway towards Snow Hill were two strong wards, failed the Castle and the Red Room. They will claim particular attention hereafter. Many other wards — especially on the Master Debtor's side — have been necessarily omitted in the foregoing hasty enumeration. But there were two places of punishment which merit some notice from their peculiarity. The first of these, the Press Room, a dark close chamber near Waterman's Hall, obtained its name from an immense wooden machine kept in it, with which such prisoners as refused to plead to their indictments were pressed to death — a species of inquisitorial torture not discontinued until so lately as the early part of the reign of George the Third, when it was abolished by an express statute. Into the second, denominated the Bilboe-s — also a dismal place — refractory prisoners were thrust, and placed in a kind of stocks, whence the name. The Chapel was situated in the south-east angle of the jail ; the ordinary at the time of this history being the Reverend Thomas Purney ; the deputy chaplain, Mr. Wagstaff. Much has been advanced by modern writers respecting the demoralizing effect of prison society; and it has been asserted, that a youth once confined in Newgate, is certain to come out a confirmed thief. However this may be now, it Avas unquestion- ably true of old Newgate. It was the grand nursery of vice — ■ " a famous university," observes Ned Ward, in the London Spy, " where, if a man has a mind to educate a hopeful child in the THE CONDEMNED HOLD. 223 daring science of padding; the light-fingered subtlety of shop- lifting; the excellent use of jack and crow; for the silently drawing bolts, and forcing barricades ; with the knack of sweet- ening; or the most ingenious dexterity of picking pockets: let him but enter in this college on the Common Side, and confine him close to his study but for three months ; and if he does not come out qualified to take any degree of villainy, he must be the most honest dunce that ever had the advantage of such eminent tutors." To bring down this imperfect sketch of Newgate to the present time, it may be mentioned that, being found inadequate to the purpose required, the old jail was pulled down in 1770. Just at the completion of the new jail, in 1780, it was assailed by the mob during the Gordon riots, fired, and greatly damaged. The devastations, however, were speedily made good ; and, in two years more, it was finished. It is a cheering reflection, that in the present prison, with its clean, well-whitewashed, and well-ventilated wards, its airy courts, its infirmary, its improved regulations, and its humane and intel- ligent officers, many of the miseries of the old jail are removed For these beneficial changes society is mainly indebted to the unremitting exertions of the philanthropic Howard. CHAPTER X.— HOW JACK SHEPPAttD GOT OUT OF THE CONDEMNED HOLD. Monday, the 31st of August, 1724 — a day long afterwards remembered by the officers of Newgate — was distinguished by an unusual influx of visiters to the Lodge. On that morning the dead-warrant had arrived from Windsor, ordering Sheppard for execution (since his capture by Jonathan Wild in Bedlam, as related in a former chapter, Jack had been tried, convicted, and sentenced to death), together with three other malefactors, on the following Friday. Up to this moment, hopes had been entertained of a respite, strong representations in his favour having been made in the highest quarter; but now that his fate seemed sealed, the curiosity of the sight-seeing public to behold him was redoubled. The prison gates were besieged like the entrance of a booth :it a fair; and the Condemned Hold, where he was con- fined, and to which visiters were admitted at the moderate rate of a guinea a-head, had quite the appearance of a show-room. As the day wore on, the crowds diminished — many who would not sub- mit to the turnkey's demands were sent away ungratified — and at live o'clock, onlv two strangers, Mr. Shotbolt, the head turnkey of Clerkenwell Prison, and Mr. Griffin, who held the same office in Westminster Gatehouse, were left in the Lodge. Jack, who 224 JACK SHEPPARD. had formerly been in the custody of both these gentlemen, gave them a very cordial welcome ; apologized for the sorry room he was compelled to receive them in ; and when they took leave, insisted on treating them to a double bowl of punch, which they were now discussing with the upper jailer, Mr. Ireton, and his two satellites, Austin and Langley. At a little distance from the party, sat a tall, sinister-looking personage, with harsh inflexible features, a gaunt but muscular frame, and large bony hands. He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe. His name was Marvel, and his avocation, which was as repulsive as his looks, was that of public executioner. By his side sat a remarkably stout dame, to whom he paid as much attention as it was in his iron nature to pay. She had a nut- brown skin, a swarthy upper-lip, a merry black eye, a prominent- bust, and a tun-like circumference of waist. A widow for the fourth time, Mrs. Spurling (for she it was), either by her attrac- tions of purse or person, had succeeded in moving the stony heart of Mr. Marvel, who, a3 he had helped to deprive her of her former husbands, thought himself in duty bound to offer to supply their place. But the lady was not so easily won ; and, though she did not absolutely reject him, gave him very slight hopes. Mr. Marvel, therefore, remained on his probation. Behind Mrs. Spurling stood her negro attendant, Caliban ; a hideous, misshapen, maliciows monster, with broad hunched shoulders, a flat nose, and ears like those of a wild beast, a head too large for his body, and a body too long for his legs. This horrible piece of deformity, who acted as drawer and cellarman, and was a con- stant butt to the small wits of the jail, was nicknamed the Black Dog of Newgate. In the general survey of the prison, taken in the preceding chapter, but little was said of the Lodge. It may be well, there- fore, before proceeding farther, to describe it more minutely. It was approached from the street by a flight of broad stone steps, leading to a ponderous door, plated with iron, and secured on the inner side by huge bolts, and a lock, with wards of a prodigious size. A little within stood a second door, or rather wicket, lower than the first, but of equal strength, and surmounted by a row of sharp spikes. As no apprehension was entertained of an escape by this outlet — nothing of the kind having been attempted by the boldest felon ever incarcerated in Newgate — both doors were generally left open during the daytime. At six o'clock, the wicket was shut; and at nine, the jail was altogether locked up. Not far from the entrance, on the left, was a sort of screen, or partition-wall, reaching from the floor to the ceiling, formed of thick oaken planks riveted together by iron bolts, and studded with broad-headed nails. In this screen, which masked the entrance of a dark passage communicating with the Condemned Hold, about five feet from the ground, was a hatch, protected by THE CONDEMNED HOLD. 225 long spikes set six inches apart, and each of the thickness of an elephant's tusk. The spikes almost touched the upper part of the hatch: scarcely space enough for the passage of a hand being left between their points and the beam. Here, as has already been observed, condemned malefactors were allowed to con- verse with such of their guests as had not interest or money enough to procure admission to them in the hold. Beyond the hatch, an angle, formed by a projection in the wall of some three or four feet, served to hide a door conducting to the interior of the prison. At the farther end of the Lodge, the floor was raised to the height of a couple of steps; whence the whole place, with the exception of the remotest corner of the angle before mentioned, could be commanded at a single glance. On this elevation a table was now placed, around which sat the turnkeys and their guests, regaling themselves on the fragrant beverage provided by the prisoner. A brief description will suffice for them. They were all stout ill-favoured men, attired in the regular jail-livery of scratch wig and snuff-coloured suit; and had all a strong family likeness to each other. The only difference between the officers of Newgate and their brethren was, that they had enormous bunches of keys at their girdles, while the latter had left their keys at home. " Well, I've seen many a gallant fellow in my time, Mr. Ireton," observed the chief turnkey of Westminster Gatehouse, as he helped himself to his third glass of punch; "but I never saw one like Jack Sheppard." "Nor I," returned Ireton, following his example: "and I've had some experience too. Ever since he came here, three months ago, he has been the life and soul of the place; and now the dead- warrant has arrived, instead of being cast down, as most men would be, and as all others are, he's gayer than ever. Well, 1 •hall be sorry to lose him, Mr. Griffin. AVe've made a pretty penny Dy him — sixty guineas this blessed day." "No more!" cried Griffin, incredulously; "I should have thought you must have made double that sum at least." " Not a farthing more, I assure you," rejoined Ireton, pettishly , " we're all on the square here. I took the money myself, and ought to know." "Oh! certainly," answered Griffin ; "certainly." "I offered Jack five guineas as his share," continued Ireton; "but he wouldn't take it himself, and gave it to the poor debtors and felons, who are now drinking it out in the cellar on the Common Side. " Jack's a noble fellow," exclaimed the head-jailer of Clerken- well Prison, raising his glass ; " and, though he played me a scurvy trick, I'll drink to his speedy deliverance." "At Tyburn, eh, Mr. Shotbolt?" rejoined the executioner. " I'll pledge you in that toast with all my heart." il VVell, for my part," observed Mrs. Spurling, " I hope he may Q 226 JACK STTEPPARD. never see Tyburn. And, if I'd my own way with the Secretary of State, he never should. It's a thousand pities to hang so pretty a fellow. There haven't been so many ladies in the Lodge since the days of Claude Du Val, the gentleman highwayman ; and they all declare it'll break their hearts if he's scragged." " Bah!" ejaculated Marvel, gruffly. " You think our sex has no feeling, I suppose, sir," cried Mrs. Spurling, indignantly ; " but I can tell you we have. And, what's more, I tell you, if Captain Sheppard is hanged, you need never ' hope to call me Mrs. Marvel." "'Zounds!" cried the executioner, in astonishment. "Do you know what you are talking a»bout, Mrs. Spurling? Why, if Captain Sheppard should get off, it 'ud be fifty guineas out of my way. There's the grand laced coat he wore at his trial, which I intend for my wedding-dress." a Don't mention such a thing, sir," interrupted the tapstress. " I couldn't bear to see you in it. You're speaking of the trial brings the whole scene to my mind. Ah ! I shall never forget the figure Jack cut on that occasion. What a buzz of admira- tion ran round the court as he appeared ! And, how handsome and composed he looked ! Every body wondered that such a stripling could commit such desperate robberies. His firmness never deserted him till his old master, Mr. Wood, was examined. Then he did give way a bit. And when Mr. Wood's daughter — to whom, I've heard tell, he was attached years ago — was brought up, his courage forsook him altogether, and he trembled, and could scarcely stand. Poor young lady ! She trembled too, and was unable to give her evidence. When sentence was passed there wasn't a dry eye in the court." tl Yes, there was one," observed Ireton. "I guess who you mean," rejoined Shotbolt. "Mr. Wild's." " Right," answered Ireton. " It's strange, the antipathy he bears to Sheppard. I was standing near Jack at that awful moment, and beheld the look Wild fixed on him. It was like the grin of a fiend, and made my flesh creep on my bones. When the prisoner was removed from the dock, we met Jonathan as we passed through the yard. He stopped us, and, addressing Jack in a taunting tone, said, ' Well, I've been as good as my word ! ' — ' True,' replied Sheppard ; l and I'll be as good as mine.' And so they parted." " And I hope he will, if it's any thing to Jonathan's disadvan- tage," muttered Mrs. Spurling, half aside. " I'm surprised Mr. Wild hasn't been to inquire after him to-day," observed Langley ; " it's the first time he's missed doing so since the trial." " He's gone to Enfield after Blueskin, who has so long eluded his vigilance," rejoined Austin. " Quilt Arnold called this morning to say so. Certain information, it seems, has been re- THE CONDEMNED HOLD. '2'27 ceivcd from a female, that Blueskin would be at a flash-ken near the Chase at five o'clock to-day, and they're all set out in the expectation of nabbing him." u Mr. Wild had a narrow escape lately, in that affair of Cap- tain Darrell," observed Shotbolt. " I don't exactly know the rights of that affair," rejoined Griffin with some curiosity. " Nor any one else, I suspect." answered Ircton, winking sig- nificantly. " It's a mysterious transaction altogether. But, as much as is known is this: Captain Darrell, who resides with Mr. Wood at Dollis Hill, was assaulted and halt-killed by a party of ruffians, headed, he swore, by Mr. Wild and his uncle, Sir Row- land Trenchard. Mr. Wild, however, proved on the evidence of his own servants, that he was at the Old Bailey at the time ; and Sir Rowland proved that he was in Manchester. So the charge was dismissed. Another charge was then brought against them by the captain, who accused them of kidnapping him when a boy, and placing him in the hands of a Dutch skipper, named Van Galgebrok, with instructions to throw him overboard, which was done, though he afterwards escaped. But this accusation, for want of sufficient evidence, met with the same late as the first, and Jonathan came off' victorious. It was thought, however, if the skipper could have been found, that the result of the case would have been materially different. This was rather too much to expect; for we all know, if Mr. Wild wishes to keep a man out of the way. he'll speedily find the means to do so." " Ay, ay," cried the jailers, laughing. "/could have given awkward evidence in that case, if I'd been so inclined,"' said Mrs. Spurling; " ay, and found Van Galge- brok, too. But I never betray an old customer." " Mr. Wild is a great man," said the hangman, replenishing his pipe, " and wc owe him much, and ought to support him. Were any thing to happen to him, Newgate wouldn't be what it is, nor Tyburn either." " Mr. Wild has given you some employment, Mr. Marvel," remarked Shotbolt. " A little, sir," replied the executioner, with a grim smile. " Out of the twelve hundred subjects I've tucked up, I may safely place half to his account. If ever he requires my services, lie shall find I'm not ungrateful. And, though I say it that shouldn't say it, no man can tie a better knot. Mr. Wild, gentle- men, and the nubbin'-cheat." " Fill your glasses, gentlemen," observed Ireton, " and I'll tell you a droll thing Jack said this morning. Amongst others who came to sec him, was a Mr. Kneebone, a woollen-draper in Wych Street, with whose pockets, it appears, Jack, when a lad, made a little too free. As this gentleman was going away, he said to Jack in a jesting manner, ' That he should be glad to see 228 JACK SHEPPARD. him to-night at supper.' Upon which the other answered, ' That he accepted his invitation with pleasure, and would make a point of waiting upon him.' Ha! ha! ha!" "Did he say so?" cried Shotbolt. "Then I advise you to look sharply after him, Mr. Ireton ; for may I be hanged myself if I don't believe he'll be as good as his word." At this juncture, two women, very smartly attired in silk hoods and cloaks, appeared at the door of the Lodge. " Ah! who have we here?" exclaimed Griffin. " Only Jack's two wives — Edgeworth Bess and Poll Maggot," replied Austin, laughing. " They can't go into the Condemned Hold," said Ireton, con- sequentially ; " it's against Mr. Wild's orders. They must see the prisoner at the hatch." " Very well, sir," replied Austin, rising and walking towards them. " Well, my pretty dears," he added — " come to see your husband, eh? You must make the most of your time. You won't have him long. You've heard the news, I suppose ? " " That the dead-warrant's arrived," returned Edgeworth Bess, bursting into a flood of tears; '*' oh, yes! we've heard it." " How does Jack bear it? " inquired Mrs. Maggot. "Like a hero," answered Austin. " I knew he would," replied the Amazon. " Come, Bess — no whimpering. Don't unman him. Are we to see him here? " " Yes, my love." " Well, then, lose no time in bringing him to us," said Mrs. Maggot. " There's a guinea to drink our health," she added, slip- ping a piece of money into his hand. " Here, Caliban," shouted the under turnkey, " unlock Captain Sheppard's padlock, and tell him his wives are in the Lodge waiting to see him." " Iss, Massa Austin," replied the black. And, taking the keys, he departed on the errand. As soon as he Avas gone, the two women divested themselves of their hoods and cloaks, and threw them, as if inadvertently, into the farthest part of the angle in the wall. Their beauti- fully proportioned figures and rather over-displayed shoulders attracted the notice of Austin, who inquired of the chief turn- key, "whether he should stand by them during the interview ?" "Oh! nevermind them," said Mrs. Spurling, who had been hastily compounding another bowl of punch. " Sit down, and enjoy yourself. Til keep a look-out that nothing happens." By this time Caliban had returned, and Jack appeared at the hatch. He was wrapped in a loose dressing-gown of light material, and stood near the corner where the women's dresses had just been thrown down, quite out of sight of all the party, ex- cept Mrs. Spurling, who sat on the right of the table. " Have you got Jonathan out of the way? " he asked, in an eager whisper. • //'/-?//<> THE CONDEMNED HOLD. 229 "Yes, yes," replied Edgeworth Bess. "'Patience Kite haa lured him to Enfield on a false scent after Blueskin. You need fear no interruption from him, or any of his myrmidons." " That's well ! " cried Jack. " Now stand before me, Poll. I've got the watch-spring saw in my sleeve. Pretend to weep both of you as loudly as you can. This spike is more than half cut through. I was at work at it yesterday and the day before. Keep up the clamour for five minutes, and I'll finish it." Thus urged, the damsels began to raise their voices in loud lamentation. " What the devil are you howling about?" cried Langley. " Do you think we are to be disturbed in this way? Make less noise, hussies, or I'll turn you out of the Lodge." " For shame, Mr Langley," rejoined Mrs. S purling: "I blush for you, sir! To call yourself a man, and interfere With the natu- ral course of affection ! Have you no feeling for the situation of those poor disconsolate creatures, about to be bereaved of all they hold dear! Is it nothing to part with a husband to the gallows? I've lost four in the same way, and know what it is." Here she began to blubber loudly for sympathy. " Comfort yourself, my charmer,"' said Mr. Marvel, in a tone intended to be consolatory. "I'll be their substitute." " You!'' cried the tapstress, with a look of horror: "Never!" "Confusion!" muttered Jack, suddenly pausing in his task, " the saw has broken just as I am through the spike." " Can't we break it off?" replied Mrs." Maggot. " I fear not," replied Jack, despondingly. " Let's try, at all events," returned the Amazon. And, grasping the thick iron rod, she pushed with all her force against it, while Jack seconded her efforts from within. After great exertions on both parts, the spike yielded to their combined strength, and snapped suddenly oft". "Holloa — what's that? " cried Austin, starting up. " Only my darbies," returned Jack, clinking his chains. "Oh! that was all, was it?" said thctnrnkey, quietly reseating himself. "Now, give me the woollen cloth to tie round my fetters,' whispered Sheppard. " Quick." " Here it is," replied Edgeworth Bess. " Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation. " Keep a sharp look-out, Bess." " Stop !" interposed Edgeworth Bess; "Mr. Langley is getting up, and coming this way. We're lost " " Help me through at all hazards, Poll," cried Jack, strain- ing towards the opening. "The dangers past,"' whispered Bess. "Mrs. Spurling has induced him to sit down again. Ah ! she looks this way, and puts 230 JACK SIJEPPAED. her finger to her lips. She comprehends what we're about. We're all safe?" " Don't lose a moment, then," cried Jack, forcing himself into the aperture; while the Amazon, assisted by Bess, pulled him through it. i: There !" cried Mrs. Maggot, as she placed him without noise upon the ground ; " you're safe so far." " Come, my disconsolate darlings," cried Austin, " it only wants live minutes to six. I expect Mr. Wild here presently. Cut it as short as you can." " Only two minutes more, sir," entreated Edgeworth Bess, advancing towards him in such a manner as to screen Jack, who crept into the farthest part of the angle — " only two minutes, and we've done." " Well, well, I'm not within a minute," rejoined the turnkey. " We shall never be able to get you out unseen, Jack," •whispered Poll Maggot. " You must make a bold push." " Impossible," replied Sheppard, in the same tone. " That would be certain destruction. I can't run in these heavy fetters. No: I must face it out. Tell Bess to slip out, and I'll put on her cloak and hood." Meanwhile, the party at the table continued drinking and chatting as merrily as before. "I can't help thinking of Jack Sheppard's speech to Mr. Kneebone," observed Shotbolt, as he emptied his tenth tumbler; "I'm sure he's meditating an escape, and hopes to accomplish it to-night." "Poh! poh!" rejoined Ireton ; "it was mere idle boasting. I examined the Condemned Hold myself carefully this morning, and didn't find a nail out of its place. Recollect he's chained to the ground by a great horse-padlock, and is never unloosed except when he comes to that hatch. If he escapes at all, it must be before our faces." " It wouldn't surprise me if he did," remarked Griffin. " He's audacity enough for any thing. He got out in much the same way from the Gatehouse — stole the keys, and passed through a room where I was sitting half asleep in a chair." "Caught you napping, eh?" rejoined Ireton, with a laugh " "Well, he w r on't do that here. I'll forgive him if he does." " And so will I," said Austin. " We're too wide awake foi that. Ain't we, partner?" he added, appealing to Langley whom punch had made rather dozy. " I should think so," responded the lethargic turnkey, with a yawn. During this colloquy, Jack had contrived unobserved to put on the hood and cloak, and being about the size of the rightful owner, presented a very tolerable resemblance to her. This done, Edge* worth Bess, who watched her opportunity, slipped out of theLodga THE CONDEMNED HOLD. 231 " Halloa!" exclaimed Austin, who had caught a glimpse of her departing figure, " one of the women is gone % " " No — no," hastily interposed Mr. Spurling; "they're both here. Don't you see they're putting on their cloaks'?" "That's false!" rejoined Marvel, in a low tone; "I per- ceive what has taken place." "Oh, goodness!" ejaculated the tapstress, in alarm. "You won't betray him." " Say the word, and I'm mum," returned the executioner. " Will you be mine I" " It's a very unfair advantage to take — very," replied Mrs. Spurling ; " however, I consent." " Then I'll lend a helping hand. I shall lose my fees and the laced coat. But it's better to have the bride without the weddin' dress, than the weddin' dress without the bride." At this moment, Saint Sepulchre's clock struck six. " Close the wicket, Austin," vociferated Ireton, in an autho- ritative tone. " Good-bye !" cried Jack, as if taking leave of his mistresses; " to-morrow, at the same time." " We'll be punctual," replied Mrs. Maggot. " Good-bye, Jack ! Keep up your spirits." " Now for it! — life or death!" exclaimed Jack, assuming the gait of a female, and stepping towards the door. As Austin rose to execute his principal's commands, and usher the women to the gate, Mrs. Spurling and Marvel rose too. The latter walked carelessly towards the hatch, and leaning his back against the place whence the spike had been removed, so as com- pletely to hide it, continued smoking his pipe as coolly as if nothing had happened. Just as Jack gained the entrance, he heard a man's footstep behind him, and aware that the slightest indiscretion would be- tray him, he halted, uncertain what to do. " Stop a minute, my dear," cried Austin. " You forget that you promised me a kiss the last time you were here. 1 ' " Won't one from me do as well?" interposed Mrs. Maggot. " Much better," said Mrs. Spurling, hastening to the rescue. " 1 want to speak to Edgeworth Bess myself." So saying, she planted herself between Jack and the turnkey. It was a moment of breathless interest to all engaged in the attempt. "Come — the kiss!" cried Austin, endeavouring to pass his arm familiarly round the Amazon's waist. " Hands off!" she exclaimed, or you'll repent it." " Why, what'll you do?" demanded the turnkey. u Teach you to keep your distance !" retorted Mrs. Maggot, dealing him a buffet that sent him reeling several yards back- wards 232 JACK SHEPPAKD. "There! off with you!" whispered Mrs. Spurling, squeezin^ Jack's arm, and pushing him towards the door, * ; and don't come here again." Before Austin could recover himself, Jack and Mrs. Maggot had disappeared. " Bolt the wicket !" shouted Ireton, who, with the others had been not a little entertained by the gallant turnkey's discomfi- ture. This was done, and Austin returned with a crestfallen look to the table. Upon which ]\Irs. Spurling, and her now accepted suitor, resumed their seats. " You'll be as good as your word, my charmer," whispered the executioner. " Of course," responded the widow, heaving a deep sigh. rt O Jack ! Jack ! — you little know what a price I've paid for you." " Well, I'm glad those women are gone," remarked Shotbolt. tl Coupling their presence with Jack's speech, I couldn't help fearing; some mischief might ensue." " That reminds me he's still at large," returned Ireton. u Here, Caliban, go and fasten his padlock." " Iss, Massa Ireton," replied the black. " Stop, Caliban," interposed Mrs. Spurling, who wished to protract the discovery of the escape as long as possible. " Before you go, bring me the bottle of pine-apple rum I opened yester- day. I should like Mr. Ireton and his friends to taste it. It in in the lower cupboard. Oh ! you haven't got the key — then / must have it, I suppose. How provoking!" she added, pretend- ing to rummage her pockets ; " one never can find a thing when one wants it." (t Never mind it, my dear Mrs. Spurling," rejoined Ireton , u we can taste the rum when he returns. We shall have Mr. Wild here presently, and I wouldn't for the world — Zounds !" he exclaimed, as the figure of the thief-taker appeared at the wicket, " here he is. Off with you, Caliban ! Fly, you rascal !" " Mr. Wild here !" exclaimed Mrs. Spurling in alarm. " Oh gracious ! he's lost." " Who's lost 1 ?" demanded Ireton. *' The key," replied the widow. All the turnkeys rose to salute the thief-taker, whose habitually millen countenance looked gloomier than usual. Ireton rushed forward to open the wicket for him. " No Blueskin, I perceive, sir," he observed, in a deferential tone, as Wild entered the Lodge. " No," replied Jonathan, moodily. I've been deceived by false information. But the wench who tricked me shall bitterly repent it. I hope this is all. I begin to fear I might be pur- posely got out of the way. Nothing has gone wrong here?" THE CONDEMNED HOLD. 233 "Nothing whatever," replied Ireton. "Jack is just gone bac to the Condemned Hold. His two wives have been here.'' "Ha!" exclaimed Jonathan, with a sudden vehemence that electrified the chief turnkey ; " what's this ! a spike gone ! 'Sdeath ! the women, you say, have been here. He has escaped." "Impossible, sir," replied Ireton, greatly alarmed. "Impossible!" echoed Wild, with a fearful imprecation. "No, sir, it's quite possible — more than possible. It's certain. I'll lay my life he's gone. Come with me to the Condemned Hold directly, and, if I find my fears confirmed, I'll — " lie was here interrupted by the sudden entrance of the black, who rushed precipitately into the room, letting fall the heavy bunch of keys in his fright. "O Massa Ireton! Massa Wild!" ejaculated Caliban, "Shack Sheppart gone!" "Gone? you black devil! — Gone?" cried Ireton. " Iss, Massa. Caliban sarch ebcry hole in de place, but Shack no dere. Only him big boss padlock — noting else." " 1 knew it," rejoined Wild, with concentrated rage; "and he escaped you all, in broad day, before your faces. You may well say it's impossible! His Majesty's jail of Newgate is admirably guarded, I must say. Ireton, you are in league with him." "Sir," said the chief turnkey, indignantly. " You arc, sir," thundered Jonathan; " and, unless you find him, you sha'n'thold your place a week. I don't threaten idly, as you know. And you, Austin; and you, Langley, I say the same thing to you." "But, Mr. Wild," implored the turnkeys. "I've said it," rejoined Jonathan, peremptorily. "And you, Marvel, you must have been a party — " "I, sir!" " If he's not found, 1*11