Mr. Wild is a friend of yours, I'm sorry for what I said. I've no doubt he's as honest as either of you."
"Enough," returned Jackson, extending his hand; "and if I've expressed myself warmly, I'm sorry for it likewise. But you must allow me to observe, my good Sir, that you're wholly in the wrong respecting my friend. Mr. Wild never was the associate of thieves."
"Never," echoed Smith, emphatically, "upon my honour."
"I'm satisfied with your assurance," replied the carpenter, drily.
"It's more than I am," muttered Thames.
"I was not aware that Jonathan Wild was an acquaintance of yours, Mr. Jackson," said Kneebone, whose assiduity to Mrs. Wood had prevented him from paying much attention to the previous scene.
"I've known him all my life," replied the other.
"The devil you have! Then, perhaps, you can tell me when he intends to put his threat into execution?"
"What threat?" asked Jackson.
"Why, of hanging the fellow who acts as his jackal; one Blake, or Blueskin, I think he's called."
"You've been misinformed, Sir," interposed Smith. "Mr. Wild is incapable of such baseness."
"Bah!" returned the woollen-draper. "I see you don't know him as well as you pretend. Jonathan is capable of anything. He has hanged twelve of his associates already. The moment they cease to be serviceable, or become dangerous he lodges an information, and the matter's settled. He has always plenty of evidence in reserve. Blueskin is booked. As sure as you're sitting there, Mr. Smith, he'll swing after next Old Bailey sessions. I wouldn't be in his skin for a trifle!"
"But he may peach," said Smith casting an oblique glance at Jackson.
"It would avail him little if he did," replied Kneebone. "Jonathan does what he pleases in the courts."
"Very true," chuckled Jackson; "very true."
"Blueskin's only chance would be to carry his threat into effect," pursued the woollen-draper.
"Aha!" exclaimed Jackson. "He threatens, does he?"
"More than that," replied Kneebone; "I understand he drew a knife upon Jonathan, in a quarrel between them lately. And since then, he has openly avowed his determination of cutting his master's throat on the slightest inkling of treachery. But, perhaps Mr. Smith will tell you I'm misinformed, also, on that point."
"On the contrary," rejoined Smith, looking askance at his companion, "I happen to know you're in the right."
"Well, Sir, I'm obliged to you," said Jackson; "I shall take care to put Mr. Wild on his guard against an assassin."
"And I shall put Blueskin on the alert against the designs of a traitor," rejoined Smith, in a tone that sounded like a menace.
"In my opinion," remarked Kneebone, "it doesn't matter how soon society is rid of two such scoundrels; and if Blueskin dies by the rope, and Jonathan by the hand of violence, they'll meet the fate they merit. Wild was formerly an agent to the Jacobite party, but, on the offer of a bribe from the opposite faction, he unhesitatingly deserted and betrayed his old employers. Of late, he has become the instrument of Walpole, and does all the dirty work for the Secret Committee. Several arrests of importance have been intrusted to him; but, forewarned, forearmed, we have constantly baffled his schemes;—ha! ha! Jonathan's a devilish clever fellow. But he can't have his eyes always about him, or he'd have been with us this morning at the Mint, eh, Mr. Jackson!"
"So he would," replied the latter: "so he would."
"With all his cunning, he may meet with his match," continued Kneebone, laughing. "I've set a trap for him."
"Take care you don't fall into it yourself," returned Jackson, with a slight sneer.
"Were I in your place," said Smith, "I should be apprehensive of Wild, because he's a declared enemy."
"And were I in yours," rejoined the woollen-draper, "I should be doubly apprehensive, because he's a professed friend. But we're neglecting the punch all this time. A bumper round, gentlemen. Success to our enterprise!"
"Success to our enterprise!" echoed the others, significantly.
"May I ask whether you made any further inquiries into the mysterious affair about which we were speaking just now?" observed Jackson, turning to the carpenter.
"I can't say I did," replied Wood, somewhat reluctantly; "what with the confusion incident to the storm, and the subsequent press of business, I put it off till it was too late. I've often regretted that I didn't investigate the matter. However, it doesn't much signify. All concerned in the dark transaction must have perished."
"Are you sure of that," inquired Jackson.
"As sure as one reasonably can be. I saw their boat swept away, and heard the roar of the fall beneath the bridge; and no one, who was present, could doubt the result. If the principal instigator of the crime, whom I afterwards encountered on the platform, and who was dashed into the raging flood by the shower of bricks, escaped, his preservation must have been indeed miraculous."
"Your own was equally so," said Jackson ironically. "What if he did escape?"
"My utmost efforts should be used to bring him to justice."
"Hum!"
"Have you any reason to suppose he survived the accident?" inquired Thames eagerly.
Jackson smiled and put on the air of a man who knows more than he cares to tell.
"I merely asked the question," he said, after he had enjoyed the boy's suspense for a moment.
The hope that had been suddenly kindled in the youth's bosom was as suddenly extinguished.
"If I thought he lived–" observed Wood.
"If," interrupted Jackson, changing his tone: "he does live. And it has been well for you that he imagines the child was drowned."
"Who is he?" asked Thames impatiently.
"You're inquisitive, young gentleman," replied Jackson, coldly. "When you're older, you'll know that secrets of importance are not disclosed gratuitously. Your adoptive father understands mankind better."
"I'd give half I'm worth to hang the villain, and restore this boy to his rights," said Mr. Wood.
"How do you know he has any rights to be restored to?" returned Jackson, with a grin. "Judging from what you tell me, I've no doubt he's the illegitimate offspring of some handsome, but lowborn profligate; in which case, he'll neither have name, nor wealth for his inheritance. The assassination, as you call it, was, obviously, the vengeance of a kinsman of the injured lady, who no doubt was of good family, upon her seducer. The less said, therefore, on this point the better; because, as nothing is to be gained by it, it would only be trouble thrown away. But, if you have any particular fancy for hanging the gentleman, who chose to take the law into his own hands—and I think your motive extremely disinterested and praiseworthy—why, it's just possible, if you make it worth my while, that your desires may be gratified."
"I don't see how this is to be effected, unless you yourself were present at the time," said Wood, glancing suspiciously at the speaker.
"I
