two. What has become of the other?”
“Why, surely you don’t mean Jack Sheppard?” cried the woollen-draper in surprise.
“That was the lad’s name,” returned the stranger.
“I guessed from your dress and manner, Sir, that you must have been long absent from your own country,” said Kneebone; “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 housebreaker that ever used a crow-bar. 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 round-house 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 Kneebone, “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 Newgate, 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 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 Walpole, 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 anything further of Sir Rowland?” he asked.
“Nothing more than this,” answered Kneebone — “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 his departure, “will 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 neighbourhood 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, after 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 mad-house?”
“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 husband, 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 friend 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.
“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.
“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. Maggot, eyeing him from head to heel with evident satisfaction; —“a devilish pretty fellow!”
“Upon my word, Poll,” said Kneebone, becoming very red, “you might have a little more delicacy than to tell him so before 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 scornfully. “Though you lorded it over that fond fool, Mrs. Wood, you shan’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 contemptuous 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 entreat you to moderate yourself.”
“Entreat a fiddlestick!” retorted Mrs. Maggot: “I’m tired of you, and will go back to my
