— heavy irons — night and day.”
“Depend upon it, Sir.”
“Go with him to Tyburn — never lose sight of him till the noose is tied. Where’s Marvel?”
“Here, Sir,” replied the executioner.
“A hundred guineas if you hang Jack Sheppard. I have it about me. Take it, if I die.”
“Never fear, Sir,” replied Marvel.
“Oh! that I could live to see it,” gasped Jonathan. And with a hideous expression of pain, he fainted.
“He’s dead,” exclaimed Austin.
“I am content,” said Jack. “My mother is avenged. Take me to the Stone Room. Blueskin, you are a true friend.”
The body of Jonathan was then conveyed to his own habitation, while Jack was taken to the Middle Stone Room, and ironed in the manner Wild had directed.
CHAPTER 28.
WHAT HAPPENED AT DOLLIS HILL.
“At length this tragedy is at an end,” said Mr. Wood, as, having seen the earth thrown over the remains of the unfortunate Mrs. Sheppard, he turned to quit the churchyard. “Let us hope that, like her who ‘loved much,’ her sins are forgiven her.”
Without another word, and accompanied by Thames, he then took his way to Dollis Hill in a state of the deepest depression. Thames did not attempt to offer him any consolation, for he was almost as much dejected. The weather harmonized with their feelings. It rained slightly, and a thick mist gathered in the air, and obscured the beautiful prospect.
On his arrival at Dollis Hill, Mr. Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. The two lovers sat together, and their sole discourse turned upon Jack and his ill-fated mother.
As the night advanced, Mr. Wood again made his appearance in a more composed frame of mind, and, at his daughter’s earnest solicitation, was induced to partake of some refreshment. An hour was then passed in conversation as to the possibility of rendering any assistance to Jack; in deploring his unhappy destiny; and in the consideration of the course to be pursued in reference to Jonathan Wild.
While they were thus occupied, a maid-servant entered the room, and stated that a person was without who had a packet for Captain Darrell, which must be delivered into his own hands. Notwithstanding the remonstrances of Wood and Winifred, Thames instantly followed the domestic, and found a man, with his face muffled up, at the door, as she had described. Somewhat alarmed at his appearance, Thames laid his hand upon his sword.
“Fear nothing, Sir,” said the man, in a voice which Thames instantly recognised as that of Blueskin. “I am come to render you a service. There are the packets which my Captain hazarded his life to procure for you, and which he said would establish your right to the estates of the Trenchard family. There are also the letters which were scattered about Wild’s room after the murder of Sir Rowland. And there,” he added, placing in his hands a heavy bag of money, and a pocket-book, “is a sum little short of fifteen thousand pounds.”
“How have you procured these things?” asked Thames, in the utmost astonishment.
“I carried them off on the fatal night when we got into Wild’s house, and you were struck down,” replied Blueskin. “They have ever since been deposited in a place of safety. You have nothing more to fear from Wild.”
“How so?” asked Thames.
“I have saved the executioner a labour, by cutting his throat,” replied Blueskin. “And, may I be cursed if I ever did anything in my whole life which gave me so much satisfaction.”
“Almighty God! is this possible?” exclaimed Thames.
“You will find it true,” replied Blueskin. “All I regret is, that I failed in liberating the Captain. If he had got off, they might have hanged me, and welcome.”
“What can be done for him?” cried Thames.
“That’s not an easy question to answer,” rejoined Blueskin. “But I shall watch night and day about Newgate, in the hope of getting him out. He wouldn’t require my aid, but before I stopped Jonathan’s mouth, he had ordered him to be doubly-ironed, and constantly watched. And, though the villain can’t see his orders executed, I’ve no doubt some one else will.”
“Poor Jack!” exclaimed Thames. “I would sacrifice all my fortune — all my hopes — to liberate him.”
“If you’re in earnest,” rejoined Blueskin, “give me that bag of gold. It contains a thousand pounds; and, if all other schemes fail, I’ll engage to free him on the way to Tyburn.”
“May I trust you?” hesitated Thames.
“Why did I not keep the money when I had it?” returned Blueskin, angrily. “Not a farthing of it shall be expended except in the Captain’s service.”
“Take it,” replied Thames.
“You have saved his life,” replied Blueskin. “And now, mark me. You owe what I have done for you, to him, not to me. Had I not known that you and your affianced bride are dearer to him than life I should have used this money to secure my own safety. Take it, and take the estates, in Captain Sheppard’s name. Promise me one thing before I leave you.”
“What is it?” asked Thames.
“If the Captain is taken to Tyburn, be near the place of execution — at the end of the Edgeware Road.”
“I will.”
“In case of need you will lend a helping hand?”
“Yes — yes.”
“Swear it!”
“I do.”
“Enough!” rejoined Blueskin. And he departed, just as Wood, who had become alarmed by Thames’s long absence, made his appearance with a blunderbuss in his hand.
Hastily acquainting him with the treasures he had unexpectedly obtained, Thames returned to the room to apprize Winifred of his good fortune. The packets were hastily broken open; and, while Wood was absorbed in the perusal of the despatch addressed to him by Sir Rowland, Thames sought out, and found the letter which he had been prevented from finishing on the fatal night at Jonathan Wild’s. As soon as he had read it, he let it fall from his grasp.
Winifred instantly picked it up.
“You are no longer Thames Darrell,” she said, casting her eyes rapidly over it; “but the Marquis de Chatillon.”
“My father was of the blood-royal of France,” exclaimed Thames.
“Eh-day! what’s this?” cried Wood, looking up from beneath his spectacles. “Who — who is
