“I will have it now,” rejoined Trenchard, “or our agreement is void.”
“You cannot help yourself, Sir Rowland,” replied Jonathan, contemptuously.
“Indeed!” replied the knight, drawing his sword, “the secret, villain, or I will force it from you.”
Before Wild could make any reply, the door was thrown violently open, and Abraham Mendez rushed into the room, with a face of the utmost consternation.
“He hash eshcaped!” cried the Jew.
“Who? Jack!” exclaimed Jonathan.
“Yesh,” replied Abraham. “I vent to de New Prish’n, and on wishitin’ his shel vid de turnkey, vot should ve find but de shains on de ground, de vinder broken, and Jack and Agevorth Besh gone.”
“Damnation!” cried Jonathan, stamping his foot with uncontrollable rage. “I’d rather have given a thousand pounds than this had happened. But he might have broken out of prison, and yet not got over the wall of Clerkenwell Bridewell. Did you search the yard, fool?”
“Ve did,” replied Abraham; “and found his fine goat and ruffles torn to shtrips on de shpikes near de creat cate. It vosh plain he vent dat vay.”
Jonathan gave utterance to a torrent of imprecations.
While he thus vented his rage, the door again opened, and Quilt Arnold rushed into the room, bleeding, and half-dressed.
“‘Sblood! what’s this!” cried Jonathan, in the utmost surprise. “Quilt Arnold, is that you?”
“It is, Sir,” sputtered the janizary. “I’ve been robbed, maltreated, and nearly murdered by Jack Sheppard.”
“By Jack Sheppard!” exclaimed the thief-taker.
“Yes; and I hope you’ll take ample vengeance upon him,” said Quilt.
“I will, when I catch him, rely on it,” rejoined Wild.
“You needn’t go far to do that,” returned Quilt; “there he stands.”
“Ay, here I am,” said Jack, throwing off his hat and wig, and marching towards the group, amongst whom there was a general movement of surprise at his audacity. “Sir Rowland, I salute you as your nephew.”
“Back, villain!” said the knight, haughtily. “I disown you. The whole story of your relationship is a fabrication.”
“Time will show,” replied Jack with equal haughtiness. “But, however, it may turn out, I disown you.”
“Well, Jack,” said Jonathan, who had looked at him with surprise not unmixed with admiration, “you are a bold and clever fellow, I must allow. Were I not Jonathan Wild, I’d be Jack Sheppard. I’m almost sorry I’ve sworn to hang you. But, it can’t be helped. I’m a slave to my word. Were I to let you go, you’d say I feared you. Besides, you’ve secrets which must not be disclosed. Nab and Quilt to the door! Jack, you are my prisoner.”
“And you flatter yourself you can detain me?” laughed Jack.
“At least I’ll try,” replied Jonathan, sarcastically. “You must be a cleverer lad than even I take you for, if you get out of this place.”
“What ho! Blueskin!” shouted Jack.
“Here I am, Captain,” cried a voice from without. And the door was suddenly thrown open, and the two janizaries felled to the ground by the strong arm of the stalwart robber.
“Your boast, you see, was a little premature, Mr. Wild,” said Sheppard. “Adieu, my worthy uncle. Fortunately, I’ve secured the proof of my birth.”
“Confusion!” thundered Wild. “Close the doors below! Loose the dogs! Curses! they don’t hear me! I’ll ring the alarm-bell.” And he raised his arm with the intention of executing his purpose, when a ball from Jack’s pistol passed through the back of his hand, shattering the limb. “Aha! my lad!” he cried without appearing to regard the pain of the wound; “now I’ll show you no quarter.” And, with the uninjured hand he drew a pistol, which he fired, but without effect, at Jack.
“Fly, Captain, fly!” vociferated Blueskin; “I shan’t be able to keep these devils down. Fly! they shall knock me on the head — curse ’em! — before they shall touch you.”
“Come along!” cried Jack, darting through the door. “The key’s on the outside — quick! quick!”
Instantly alive to this chance, Blueskin broke away. Two shots were fired at him by Jonathan; one of which passed through his hat, and the other through the fleshy part of his arm; but he made good his retreat. The door was closed — locked — and the pair were heard descending the stairs.
“Hell’s curses!” roared Jonathan. “They’ll escape. Not a moment is to be lost.”
So saying, he took hold of a ring in the floor, and disclosed a flight of steps, down which he hurried, followed by the janizaries. This means of communication instantly brought them to the lobby. But Jack and his companion were already gone.
Jonathan threw open the street-door. Upon the pavement near the court lay the porter, who had been prostrated by a blow from the butt-end of a pistol. The man, who was just able to move, pointed towards Giltspur-street. Jonathan looked in that direction, and beheld the fugitives riding off in triumph.
“To-night it is their turn,” said Jonathan, binding up his wounded fingers with a handkerchief. “To-morrow it will be mine.”
CHAPTER 6.
WINIFRED RECEIVES TWO PROPOSALS.
The tragical affair at Dollis Hill, it need scarcely be said, was a dreadful blow to the family. Mr. Wood bore up with great fortitude against the shock, attended the inquest, delivered his evidence with composure, and gave directions afterwards for the funeral, which took place on the day but one following — Sunday. As soon, however, as the last solemn rites were over, and the remains of the unfortunate woman committed to their final resting-place in Willesden churchyard, his firmness completely deserted him, and he sank beneath the weight of his affliction. It was fortunate that by this time Winifred had so far recovered, as to be able to afford her father the best and only solace that, under the circumstances, he could have received — her personal attentions.
The necessity which had previously existed of leaving the ghastly evidence of the murderous deed undisturbed — the presence of the mangled corpse — the bustle of the inquest, at which her attendance was required — all these circumstances produced a harrowing effect upon the young girl’s imagination. But when all was over, a sorrowful calm succeeded, and, if not free from grief, she was tranquil. As to Thames, though deeply and painfully affected by the horrible occurrence that had marked his return to his old friends, he was yet able to control his feelings, and devote himself to the alleviation of the distress of the more immediate sufferers by the calamity.
It was Sunday
