your prospects, I care not how soon I brave my threatened doom.”
“Of one or other you shall be resolved to-night,” said Luke, placing the dagger within his vest.
At this moment a trampling of a horse was heard before the hovel, and in another instant a loud knocking resounded from the door. The ferryman instantly extinguished the light, motioning his companions to remain silent.
“What, ho!” shouted a voice. “Ferry wanted.”
“Gad zooks!” exclaimed Dick. “As I live, ’tis Major Mowbray!”
“Major Mowbray!” echoed Alan, in amazement “What doth he here?”
“He must be on his way from York to Rookwood, I conclude,” said Dick. “If he’s here, I’ll engage the others are not far off.”
Scarcely were the words out of Dick’s mouth, when further clatter was heard at the door, and the tones of Coates were heard, in altissimo key, demanding admittance.
“Let us retire into the next room,” whispered Turpin, “and then admit them by all means, Conkey. And, hark ye, manage to detain them a few seconds.”
“I’ll do it,” said Jem. “There’s a bit of a hole you can peep through.”
Another loud rat-tat was heard at the door, threatening to burst it from its hinges.
“Well, I be coming,” said Jem, seeing the coast was clear, in a drowsy, yawning tone, as if just awakened from sleep. “You’ll cross the river none the faster for making so much noise.”
With these words he unbarred the door, and Coates and Paterson, who, it appeared, were proceeding to Rookwood, entered the hovel. Major Mowbray remained on horseback at the door.
“Can you find us a glass of brandy to keep out the fog?” said Coates, who knew something of our ferryman’s vocations. “I know you are a lad of amazing spirit.”
“May be I can, master, if I choose. But won’t the other gemman walk in-doors likewise?”
“No, no,” said Coates; “Major Mowbray don’t choose to dismount.”
“Well, as you please,” said Jem. “It’ll take me a minute or two to get the punt in order for all them prads.”
“The brandy in the first place,” said Coates. “What’s here?” added the loquacious attorney, noticing the remnants of Turpin’s repast. “But that we’re hurried, I should like a little frizzled bacon myself.”
Jem opened the door of his dormitory with the greatest caution, though apparent indifference, and almost instantly returned with the brandy. Coates filled a glass for Paterson, and then another for himself. The ferryman left the house apparently to prepare his boat, half closing the door after him.
“By my faith! this is the right thing, Paterson,” said the attorney. “We may be sure the strength of this was never tested by a gauger’s proof. Take another thimbleful. We’ve twelve miles and a heavy pull to go through ere we reach Rookwood. After all, we made but a poor night’s work of it, Master Constable. Cursed stupid in us to let him escape. I only wish we had such another chance. Ah, if we had him within reach now, how we would spring upon him — secure him in an instant. I should glory in the encounter. I tell you what, Paterson, if ever he is taken, I shall make a point of attending his execution, and see whether he dies game. Ha, ha! You think he’s sure to swing, Paterson, eh?”
“Why, yes,” replied the chief constable. “I wish I was as certain of my reward as that Turpin will eventually figure at the scragging-post.”
“Your reward!” replied Coates. “Make yourself easy on that score, my boy; you shall have your dues, depend upon it. Nay, for the matter of that, I’ll give you the money now, if you think proper.”
“Nothing like time present,” said Paterson. “We’ll make all square at once.”
“Well, then,” said Coates, taking out a pocket-book, “you shall have the hundred I promised. You won’t get Turpin’s reward, the three hundred pounds; but that can’t be helped. You shall have mine — always a man of my word, Paterson,” continued the attorney, counting out the money. “My father, the thief-taker, was a man of his word before me.”
“No doubt,” said the chief constable; “I shall always be happy to serve you.”
“And then there’s that other affair,” said the attorney, mysteriously, still occupied in doling out his bank-notes, “that Luke Bradley’s case; the fellow, I mean, who calls himself Sir Luke Rookwood — ha, ha! A rank impostor! Two fives, that makes fifty: you want another fifty, Paterson. As I was saying, we may make a good job of that — we must ferret him out. I know who will come down properly for that; and if we could only tuck him up with his brother blade, why it would be worth double. He’s all along been a thorn in my Lady Rookwood’s side; he’s an artful scoundrel.”
“Leave him to me,” said Paterson; “I’ll have him in less than a week. What’s your charge against him?”
“Felony, burglary, murder, every description of crime under the heavens,” said Coates. “He’s a very devil incarnate. Dick Turpin is as mild as milk compared with him. By-the-by, now I think of it, this Jem, Conkey Jem, as folks call him, may know something about him; he’s a keen file; I’ll sound him. Thirty, forty, fifty — there’s the exact amount. So much for Dick Turpin.”
“Dick Turpin thanks you for it in person,” said Dick, suddenly snatching the whole sum from Paterson’s hands, and felling the chief constable with a blow of one of his pistols. “I wish I was as sure of escaping the gallows as I am certain that Paterson has got his reward. You stare, sir. You are once more in the hands of the Philistines. See who is at your elbow.”
Coates, who was terrified almost out of his senses at the sight of Turpin, scarcely ventured to turn his head; but when he did so, he was perfectly horror-stricken at the threatening aspect of Luke, who held a cutlass in his hand, which he had picked up in the ferryman’s bedroom.
“So you would condemn me for crimes I have never committed,” said Luke. “I am tempted, I own, to add the destruction of your worthless existence to their number.”
“Mercy, for God’s sake, mercy!” cried Coates, throwing himself at Luke’s feet. “I meant not what I said.”
“Hence, reptile,” said Luke, pushing him aside; “I leave you to be dealt upon by others.”
At this juncture, the door of the hut was flung open, and in rushed Major Mowbray, sword in hand, followed by Conkey Jem.
“There he stands, sir,” cried the latter; “upon him!”
“What! Conkey Jem turned snitch upon his pals?” cried Dick; “I scarce believe my own ears.”
“Make yourself scarce, Dick,” growled Jem; “the jigger’s open, and the boat loose. Leave Luke to his fate. He’s sold.”
“Never! vile traitor,” shouted Dick; “’tis thou art sold, not he;” and, almost ere the words were spoken, a ball was lodged in the brain of the treacherous ferryman.
Major
