grate and broken chimney-piece; 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 Sharples directed his steps, and, unlocking a hatch in the door, disclosed a recess scarcely as large, and certainly not as clean, as a dog-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 prentices’ 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, leaping into the hatch, as clowns generally spring into the clock-faces, when in pursuit of harlequin in the pantomime — that is, back 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 a slight, but painful wound. Jack, who had something of the Spartan in his composition, endured his martyrdom without flinching; and carried his stoical indifference so far, as even to make a mocking grimace in Sharples’s face, while that amiable functionary thrust Thames into the recess beside him.
“How go you like your quarters, sauce-box?” asked Sharples, in a jeering tone.
“Better than your company, Saint Giles,” replied Sheppard; “so, shut the door, and make yourself scarce.”
“That boy’ll never rest till he finds his vay to Bridewell,” observed Sharples.
“Or the street,” returned Jack: “mind my words, the prison’s not built that can keep me.”
“We’ll see that, young hempseed,” replied Sharples, 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 coast’s clear. They’re gone into the next room.”
Darrell returned no answer.
“Don’t be angry with me, Thames,” continued Sheppard, in a tone calculated, as he thought, to appease his companion’s indignation. “I did all for the best, as I’ll explain.”
“I won’t reproach you, Jack,” said the other, sternly. “I’ve done with you.”
“Not quite, I hope,” rejoined Sheppard. “At all events, I’ve not done with you. If you owe your confinement to me, you shall owe your liberation to me, also.”
“I’d rather lie here for ever, than be indebted to you for my freedom,” returned Thames.
“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 skreen yourself.”
“On my soul, Thames, you wrong me!” replied Jack, passionately. “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.”
“For procuring my imprisonment?”
“For 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 in 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 kidnapped, 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 my hand; but you may take it.”
“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!” exclaimed Jack, in surprise. “How have you managed to communicate with him?”
Abraham, who had listened attentively to the foregoing conversation — not a word of which escaped 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,” replied 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 ginger-hackled Jew.”
“I don’t care if he is,” rejoined Thames, boldly. “He’ll learn that his plans will be defeated.”
“He may learn how to defeat yours,” replied Jack.
“So he 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.”
