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“How do you mean to act, Sir?” inquired Trenchard, as soon as they were left alone.

“As circumstances shall dictate, Sir Rowland,” returned Jonathan. “Something is sure to arise in the course of the investigation, of which I can take advantage. If not, I’ll convey him to St. Giles’s round-house on my own responsibility.”

“Is this your notable scheme!” asked the knight, scornfully.

“Once there,” proceeded Wild, without noticing the interruption, “he’s as good as in his grave. The constable, Sharples, is in my pay. I can remove the prisoner at any hour of the night I think fit: and I will remove him. You must, know, Sir Rowland — for I’ve no secrets from you — that, in the course of my business I’ve found it convenient to become the owner of a small Dutch sloop; by means of which I can transmit any light ware — such as gold watches, rings, and plate, as well as occasionally a bank or goldsmith’s note, which has been spoken with by way of the mail — you understand me? — to Holland or Flanders, and obtain a secure and ready market for them. This vessel is now in the river, off Wapping. Her cargo is nearly shipped. She will sail, at early dawn to-morrow, for Rotterdam. Her commander, Rykhart Van Galgebrok, is devoted to my interests. As soon as he gets into blue water, he’ll think no more of pitching the boy overboard than of lighting his pipe. This will be safer than cutting his throat on shore. I’ve tried the plan, and found it answer. The Northern Ocean keeps a secret better than the Thames, Sir Rowland. Before midnight, your nephew shall be safe beneath the hatches of the Zeeslang.”

“Poor child!” muttered Trenchard, abstractedly; “the whole scene upon the river is passing before me. I hear the splash in the water — I see the white object floating like a sea-bird on the tide — it will not sink!”

“‘Sblood!” exclaimed Jonathan, in a tone of ill-disguised contempt; “it won’t do to indulge those fancies now. Be seated, and calm yourself.”

“I have often conjured up some frightful vision of the dead,” murmured the knight, “but I never dreamed of an interview with the living.”

“It’ll be over in a few minutes,” rejoined Jonathan, impatiently; “in fact, it’ll be over too soon for me. I like such interviews. But we waste time. Have the goodness to affix your name to that memorandum, Sir Rowland. I require nothing, you see, till my share of the contract is fulfilled.”

Trenchard took up a pen.

“It’s the boy’s death-warrant,” observed Jonathan, with a sinister smile.

“I cannot sign it,” returned Trenchard.

“Damnation!” exclaimed Wild with a snarl, that displayed his glistening fangs to the farthest extremity of his mouth, “I’m not to be trifled with thus. That paper must be signed, or I take my departure.”

“Go, Sir,” rejoined the knight, haughtily.

“Ay, ay, I’ll go, fast enough!” returned Jonathan, putting his hands into his pockets, “but not alone, Sir Rowland.”

At this juncture, the door was flung open, and Charcam entered, dragging in Thames, whom he held by the collar, and who struggled in vain to free himself from the grasp imposed upon him.

“Here’s one of the thieves, Sir Rowland!” cried the attendant. “I was only just in time. The young rascal had learnt from some of the women-servants that Lady Trafford was from home, and was in the very act of making off when I got down stairs. Come along, my Newgate bird!” he continued, shaking him with great violence.

Jonathan gave utterance to a low whistle.

“If things had gone smoothly,” he thought, “I should have cursed the fellow’s stupidity. As it is, I’m not sorry for the blunder.”

Trenchard, meanwhile, whose gaze was fixed upon the boy, became livid as death, but he moved not a muscle.

“’T is he!” he mentally ejaculated.

“What do you think of your nephew, Sir Rowland?” whispered Jonathan, who sat with his back towards Thames, so that his features were concealed from the youth’s view. “It would be a thousand pities, wouldn’t it, to put so promising a lad out of the way?”

“Devil!” exclaimed the knight fiercely, “Give me the paper.”

Jonathan hastily picked up the pen, and presented it to Trenchard, who attached his signature to the document.

“If I am the devil,” observed Wild, “as some folks assert, and I myself am not unwilling to believe, you’ll find that I differ from the generally-received notions of the arch-fiend, and faithfully execute the commands of those who confide their souls to my custody.”

“Take hence this boy, then,” rejoined Trenchard; “his looks unman me.”

“Of what am I accused?” asked Thames, who though a good deal alarmed at first, had now regained his courage.

“Of robbery!” replied Jonathan in a thundering voice, and suddenly confronting him. “You’ve charged with assisting your comrade, Jack Sheppard, to purloin certain articles of value from a jewel-case belonging to Lady Trafford. Aha!” he continued, producing a short silver staff, which he carried constantly about with him, and uttering a terrible imprecation, “I see you’re confounded. Down on your marrow-bones, sirrah! Confess your guilt, and Sir Rowland may yet save you from the gallows.”

“I’ve nothing to confess,” replied Thames, boldly; “I’ve done no wrong. Are you my accuser?”

“I am,” replied Wild; “have you anything to allege to the contrary?”

“Only this,” returned Thames: “that the charge is false, and malicious, and that you know it to be so.”

“Is that all!” retorted Jonathan. “Come, I must search you my youngster!”

“You shan’t touch me,” rejoined Thames; and, suddenly bursting from Charcam, he threw himself at the feet of Trenchard. “Hear me, Sir Rowland!” he cried. “I am innocent, f have stolen nothing. This person — this Jonathan Wild, whom I beheld for the first time, scarcely an hour ago, in Wych Street, is — I know not why — my enemy. He has sworn that he’ll take away my life!”

“Bah!” interrupted Jonathan. “You won’t listen to this nonsense, Sir Rowland!”

“If you are innocent, boy,” said the knight, controlling his emotion; “you have nothing to apprehend. But, what brought you here?”

“Excuse me, Sir Rowland. I cannot answer that question. My business is with Lady Trafford.”

“Are you aware that I am her ladyship’s brother?” returned the knight. “She has no secrets from me.”

“Possibly not,” replied Thames, in some confusion; “but I am not at liberty to speak.”

“Your hesitation is not in your favour,” observed Trenchard, sternly.

“Will he consent, to be searched?” inquired Jonathan.

“No,” rejoined Thames, “I won’t be treated like a common felon, if I can help it.”

“You shall be treated according to your deserts, then,” said Jonathan, maliciously. And, in spite of the boy’s resistance, he plunged his hands into his pockets, and drew forth the miniature.

“Where did you get this from?” asked Wild, greatly surprised at the result of his investigation.

Thames returned no answer.

“I thought as much,” continued Jonathan. “But we’ll find a way to make you open your lips presently. Bring in his comrade,” he added, in a whisper to Charcam; “I’ll take care of him. And don’t neglect my instructions this time.” Upon which, with an assurance that he would not do so, the attendant departed.

“You can, of course, identify this picture as Lady Trafford’s property?” pursued Jonathan, with a meaning glance, as he handed it to the knight.

“I can,” replied Trenchard. “Ha!” he exclaimed, with a sudden start, as his glance fell upon the portrait; “how came this into your possession, boy?”

“Why don’t you answer, sirrah?” cried Wild, in a savage tone, and striking him with the silver staff. “Can’t you speak?”

“I don’t choose,” replied Thames, sturdily; “and your brutality shan’t make me.”

“We’ll see that,” replied Jonathan, dealing him another and more violent blow.

“Let him alone,” said Trenchard authoritatively, “I have another question to propose. Do you know whoso portrait this is?”

“I do not,” replied Thames, repressing his tears, “but I believe it to be the portrait of my father.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed the knight, in astonishment. “Is your father alive?”

“No,” returned Thames; “he was assassinated while I was an infant.”

“Who told you this is his portrait?” demanded Trenchard.

“My heart,” rejoined Thames, firmly; “which now tells me I am in the presence of his murderer.”

“That’s me,” interposed Jonathan; “a thief-taker is always a murderer in the eyes of a thief. I’m almost sorry your suspicions are unfounded, if your father in any way resembled you, my youngster. But I can tell you who’ll have the pleasure of hanging your father’s son; and that’s a person not a hundred miles distant from you at this moment — ha! ha!”

As he said this, the door was opened, and Charcam entered, accompanied by a dwarfish, shabby-looking man, in a brown serge frock, with coarse Jewish features, and a long red beard. Between the Jew and the attendant came Jack Sheppard; while a crowd of servants, attracted by the news, that the investigation of a robbery was going forward, lingered at the doorway in hopes of catching something of the proceedings.

When Jack was brought in, he cast a rapid glance around him, and perceiving Thames in the custody of Jonathan, instantly divined how matters stood. As he looked in this direction, Wild gave him a significant wink, the meaning of which he was not slow to comprehend.

“Get it over quickly,” said Trenchard, in a whisper to the thief-taker.

Jonathan nodded assent.

“What’s your name?” he said, addressing the audacious lad, who was looking about him as coolly as if nothing material was going on.

“Jack Sheppard,” returned the boy, fixing his eyes upon a portrait of the Earl of Mar. “Who’s that queer cove in the full-bottomed wig?”

“Attend to me, sirrah,” rejoined Wild, sternly. “Do you know this picture?” he added, with another significant look, and pointing to the miniature.

“I do,” replied Jack, carelessly.

“That’s well. Can you inform us whence it came?”

“I should think so.”

“State the facts, then.”

“It came from Lady Trafford’s jewel-box.”

Here a murmur of amazement arose from the assemblage outside.

“Close the door!” commanded Trenchard, impatiently.

“In my opinion, Sir Rowland,” suggested Jonathan; “you’d better allow the court to remain open.”

“Be it so,” replied the knight, who saw the force of this reasoning. “Continue the proceedings.”

“You say that the miniature was abstracted from Lady Trafford’s jewel-box,” said Jonathan, in a loud voice. “Who took it thence?”

“Thames Darrell; the boy at your side.”

“Jack!” cried Thames, in indignant surprise.

But Sheppard took no notice of the exclamation.

Jack Sheppard accused Thames Darrell of the theft

A loud buzz of curiosity circulated among the domestics; some of whom — especially the females — leaned forward to obtain a peep at the culprit.

“Si — lence!” vociferated Charcam, laying great emphasis on the last syllable.

“Were you present at the time of the robbery?” pursued Jonathan.

“I was,” answered Sheppard.

“And will swear to it?”

“I will.”

“Liar!” ejaculated Thames.

“Enough!” exclaimed Wild, triumphantly.

“Close the court, Mr. Charcoal. They’ve heard quite enough for my purpose,” he muttered, as his orders were obeyed, and the domestics excluded. “It’s too late to carry ’em before a magistrate now, Sir Rowland; so, with your permission, I’ll give ’em a night’s lodging in Saint Giles’s round-house. You, Jack Sheppard, have nothing to fear, as you’ve become evidence against your accomplice. To-morrow, I shall carry you before Justice Walters, who’ll take your information; and I’ve no doubt but Thames Darrell will be fully committed. Now, for the cage, my pretty canary-bird. Before we start, I’ll accommodate you with a pair of ruffles.” And he proceeded to handcuff his captive.

“Hear me!” cried Thames, bursting into tears. “I am innocent. I could not have committed this robbery. I have only just left Wych Street. Send for Mr. Wood, and you’ll find that I’ve spoken the truth.”

“You’d better hold your peace, my lad,” observed Jonathan, in a menacing tone.

“Lady Trafford would not have thus condemned me!” cried Thames.

“Away with him!” exclaimed Sir Rowland, impatiently.

“Take the prisoners below, Nab,” said Jonathan, addressing the dwarfish Jew; “I’ll join you in an instant.”

The bearded miscreant seized Jack by the waist, and Thames by the nape of the neck, and marched off, like the ogre in the fairy tale, with a boy under each arm, while Charcam brought upt the rear.