The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  “Not for worlds!” exclaimed both ladies together.

  “Farewell!” cried Jack, breaking from them, and rushing down the street.

  “What shall we do, Poll?” hesitated Edgeworth Bess.

  “Go in, to be sure, simpleton,” replied Mrs. Maggot, “and bring off all we can. I know where everything valuable is kept. Since Jack has left us, what does it matter whether he’s pleased or not?”

  At this moment, a whistle was heard.

  “Coming!” cried Blueskin, who was still lingering with Rachel. “The Captain’s in such a desperate hurry, that there’s no time for love-making. Adieu! my charmer. You’ll find those young ladies extremely agreeable acquaintances. Adieu!”

  And, snatching a hasty kiss, he darted after Jack.

  The chair, meanwhile, with its unhappy load, was transported at a brisk pace to Newgate. Arrived there, the porter thundered at the massive door of the Lodge, which was instantly opened — Shotbolt’s note having been received just before. All the turnkeys were assembled. Ireton and Langley had returned from a second unsuccessful search; Marvel had come thither to bid good-night to Mrs. Spurling; Austin had never quitted his post. The tapstress was full of curiosity; but she appeared more easy than the others. Behind her stood Caliban, chuckling to himself, and grinning from ear to ear.

  “Well, who’d have thought of Shotbolt beating us all in this way!” said Ireton. “I’m sorry for old Newgate that another jail should have it. It’s infernally provoking.”

  “Infernally provoking!” echoed Langley.

  “Nobody has so much cause for complaint as me,” growled Austin. “I’ve lost my wager.”

  “Twenty pounds,” rejoined Mrs. Spurling. “I witnessed the bet.”

  “Here he is!” cried Ireton, as the knocking was heard without. “Get ready the irons, Caliban.”

  “Wait a bit, massa,” replied the grinning negro,— “lilly bit — see all right fust.”

  By this time, the chair had been brought into the Lodge.

  “You’ve got him?” demanded Ireton.

  “Safe inside,” replied the chairman, wiping the heat from his brow; “we’ve run all the way.”

  “Where’s Mr. Shotbolt?” asked Austin.

  “The gen’l’man’ll be here directly. He was detained. T’ other gen’l’man said the letter ‘ud explain all.”

  “Detained!” echoed Marvel. “That’s odd. But, let’s see the prisoner.”

  The chair was then opened.

  “Shotbolt! by—” cried Austin, as the captive was dragged forth. “I’ve won, after all.”

  Exclamations of wonder burst from all. Mrs. Spurling bit her lips to conceal her mirth. Caliban absolutely crowed with delight.

  “Hear the letter,” said Ireton, breaking the seal. “‘This is the way in which I will serve all who attempt to apprehend me.’ It is signed JACK SHEPPARD.”

  “And, so Jack Sheppard has sent back Shotbolt in this pickle,” said Langley.

  “So it appears,” replied Marvel. “Untie his arms, and take off that handkerchief. The poor fellow’s half smothered.”

  “I guess what share you’ve had in this,” whispered Austin to Mrs. Spurling.

  “Never mind,” replied the tapstress. “You’ve won your wager.”

  Half an hour after this occurrence, when it had been sufficiently laughed at and discussed; when the wager had been settled, and the chairman dismissed with the remaining three guineas, which Shotbolt was compelled to pay; Ireton arose, and signified his intention of stepping across the street to inform Mr. Wild of the circumstance.

  “As it’s getting late, and the porter may be gone to bed,” he observed; “I’ll take the pass-key, and let myself in. Mr. Wild is sure to be up. He never retires to rest till daybreak — if at all. Come with me, Langley, and bring the lantern.”

  * * *

  CHAPTER XIV. HOW JACK SHEPPARD WAS AGAIN CAPTURED.

  Jack Sheppard, after whistling to Blueskin, hurried down a short thoroughfare leading from Wych Street to the back of Saint Clement’s Church, where he found Thames Darrell, who advanced to meet him.

  “I was just going,” said Thames. “When I parted from you at Mr. Kneebone’s door, you begged me to await your return here, assuring me you would not detain me five minutes. Instead of which, more than half an hour has elapsed.”

  “You won’t complain of the delay when I tell you what I’ve done,” answered Jack. “I’ve obtained two packets, containing letters from Sir Rowland Trenchard, which I’ve no doubt will establish your title to the estates. Take them, and may they prove as serviceable to you as I desire.”

  “Jack,” replied Thames, greatly moved, “I wish I could devise any means of brightening your own dark prospects.”

  “That’s impossible,” replied Jack. “I am utterly lost.”

  “Not utterly,” rejoined the other.

  “Utterly,” reiterated Jack, gloomily,— “as regards all I hold dear. Listen to me, Thames. I’m about to leave this country for ever. Having ascertained that a vessel sails for France from the river at daybreak to-morrow morning, I have secured a passage in her, and have already had the few effects I possess, conveyed on board. Blueskin goes with me. The faithful fellow will never leave me.”

  “Never, while I’ve breath in my body, Captain,” rejoined Blueskin, who had joined them. “England or France, London or Paris, it’s all one to me, so I’ve you to command me.”

  “Stand out of earshot,” rejoined his leader. “I’ll call you when you’re wanted.”

  And Blueskin withdrew.

  “I cannot but approve the course you are about to take, Jack,” said Thames, “though on some accounts I regret it. In after years you can return to your own country — to your friends.”

  “Never,” replied Sheppard bitterly. “My friends need not fear my return. They shall hear of me no more. Under another name, — not my own hateful one, — I will strive to distinguish myself in some foreign service, and win myself a reputation, or perish honourably. But I will never — never return.”

  “I will not attempt to combat your resolution, Jack,” returned Thames, after a pause. “But I dread the effect your departure may have upon your poor mother. Her life hangs upon a thread, and this may snap it.”

  “I wish you hadn’t mentioned her,” said Jack, in a broken voice, while his whole frame shook with emotion. “What I do is for the best, and I can only hope she may have strength to bear the separation. You must say farewell to her, for I cannot. I don’t ask you to supply my place — for that is, perhaps, impossible. But, be like a son to her.”

  “Do not doubt me,” replied Thames, warmly pressing his hand.

  “And now, I’ve one further request,” faltered Jack; “though I scarcely know how to make it. It is to set me right with Winifred. Do not let her think worse of me than I deserve, — or even so ill. Tell her, that more than once, when about to commit some desperate offence, I have been restrained by her gentle image. If hopeless love for her made me a robber, it has also saved me many a crime. Will you tell her that?”

  “I will,” replied Thames, earnestly.

  “Enough,” said Jack, recovering his composure. “And now, to your own concerns. Blueskin, who has been on the watch all night, has dogged Sir Rowland Trenchard to Jonathan Wild’s house; and, from the mysterious manner in which he was admitted by the thief-taker’s confidential servant, Abraham Mendez, and not by the regular porter, there is little doubt but they are alone, and probably making some arrangements prior to our uncle’s departure from England.”

  “Is he leaving England?” demanded Thames, in astonishment.

  “He sails to-morrow morning in the very vessel by which I start,” replied Jack. “Now, if as I suspect, — from the documents just placed in your possession, — Sir Rowland meditates doing you justice after his departure, it is possible his intentions may be frustrated by the machinations of Wild, whose interest is obviously to prevent such an occurrence, unless we can surp
rise them together, and, by proving to Sir Rowland that we possess the power of compelling a restitution of your rights, force the other treacherous villain into compliance. Jonathan, in all probability, knows nothing of these packets; and their production may serve to intimidate him. Will you venture?”

  “It is a hazardous experiment,” said Thames, after a moment’s reflection; “but I will make it. You must not, however, accompany me, Jack. The risk I run is nothing to yours.”

  “I care for no risk, provided I can serve you,” rejoined Sheppard. “Besides, you’ll not be able to get in without me. It won’t do to knock at the door, and Jonathan Wild’s house is not quite so easy of entrance as Mr. Wood’s.”

  “I understand,” replied Thames; “be it as you will.”

  “Then, we’ll lose no more time,” returned Jack. “Come along, Blueskin.”

  Starting at a rapid pace in the direction of the Old Bailey, and crossing Fleet Bridge, “for oyster tubs renowned,” the trio skirted the right bank of the muddy stream until they reached Fleet Lane, up which they hurried. Turning off again on the left, down Seacoal Lane, they arrived at the mouth of a dark, narrow alley, into which they plunged; and, at the farther extremity found a small yard, overlooked by the blank walls of a large gloomy habitation. A door in this house opened upon the yard. Jack tried it, and found it locked.

  “If I had my old tools with me, we’d soon master this obstacle,” he muttered. “We shall be obliged to force it.”

  “Try the cellar, Captain,” said Blueskin, stamping upon a large board in the ground. “Here’s the door. This is the way the old thief brings in all his heavy plunder, which he stows in out-of-the-way holes in his infernal dwelling. I’ve seen him often do it.”

  While making these remarks, Blueskin contrived, by means of a chisel which he chanced to have about him, to lift up the board, and, introducing his fingers beneath it, with Jack’s assistance speedily opened it altogether, disclosing a dark hole, into which he leapt.

  “Follow me, Thames,” cried Jack, dropping into the chasm.

  They were now in a sort of cellar, at one end of which was a door. It was fastened inside. But, taking the chisel from Blueskin, Jack quickly forced back the bolt.

  As they entered the room beyond, a fierce growl was heard.

  “Let me go first,” said Blueskin; “the dogs know me. Soho! boys.” And, walking up to the animals, which were chained to the wall, they instantly recognised him, and suffered the others to pass without barking.

  Groping their way through one or two dark and mouldy-smelling vaults, the party ascended a flight of steps, which brought them to the hall. As Jack conjectured, no one was there, and, though a lamp was burning on a stand, they decided upon proceeding without it. They then swiftly mounted the stairs, and stopped before the audience-chamber. Applying his ear to the keyhole, Jack listened, but could detect no sound. He, next cautiously tried the door, but found it fastened inside.

  “I fear we’re too late,” he whispered to Thames. “But, we’ll soon see. Give me the chisel, Blueskin.” And, dexterously applying the implement, he forced open the lock.

  They then entered the room, which was perfectly dark.

  “This is strange,” said Jack, under his breath. “Sir Rowland must be gone. And, yet, I don’t know. The key’s in the lock, on the inner side. Be on your guard.”

  “I am so,” replied Thames, who had followed him closely.

  “Shall I fetch the light, Captain?” whispered Blueskin.

  “Yes,” replied Jack. “I don’t know how it is,” he added in a low voice to Thames, as they were left alone, “but I’ve a strange foreboding of ill. My heart fails me. I almost wish we hadn’t come.”

  As he said this, he moved forward a few paces, when, finding his feet glued to the ground by some adhesive substance, he stooped to feel what it was, but instantly withdrew his hand, with an exclamation of horror.

  “God in Heaven!” he cried, “the floor is covered with blood. Some foul murder has been committed. The light! — the light!”

  Astounded at his cries, Thames sprang towards him. At this moment, Blueskin appeared with the lamp, and revealed a horrible spectacle, — the floor deluged with blood, — various articles of furniture upset, — papers scattered about, — the murdered man’s cloak, trampled upon, and smeared with gore, — his hat, crushed and similarly stained, — his sword, — the ensanguined cloth, — with several other ghastly evidences of the slaughterous deed. Further on, there were impressions of bloody footsteps along the floor.

  “Sir Rowland is murdered!” cried Jack, as soon as he could find a tongue.

  “It is plain he has been destroyed by his perfidious accomplice,” rejoined Thames. “Oh God! how fearfully my father is avenged!”

  “True,” replied Jack, sternly; “but we have our uncle to avenge. What’s this?” he added, stooping to pick up a piece of paper lying at his feet — it was Jonathan’s memorandum. “This is the explanation of the bloody deed.”

  “Here’s a pocket-book full of notes, and a heavy bag of gold,” said Blueskin, examining the articles on the floor.

  “The sum which incited the villain to the murder,” replied Jack. “But he can’t be far off. He must be gone to dispose of the body. We shall have him on his return.”

  “I’ll see where these footsteps lead to,” said Blueskin, holding the light to the floor. “Here are some more papers, Captain.”

  “Give them to me,” replied Jack. “Ah!” he exclaimed, “a letter, beginning ‘dearest Aliva,’ — that’s your mother’s name, Thames.”

  “Let me see it,” cried Thames, snatching it from him. “It is addressed to my mother,” he added, as his eye glanced rapidly over it, “and by my father. At length, I shall ascertain my name. Bring the light this way — quick! I cannot decipher the signature.”

  Jack was about to comply with the request, when an unlooked-for interruption occurred. Having traced the footsteps to the wall, and perceiving no outlet, Blueskin elevated the lamp, and discovered marks of bloody fingers on the boards.

  “He must have gone this way,” muttered Blueskin. “I’ve often heard of a secret door in this room, though I never saw it. It must be somewhere hereabouts. Ah!” he exclaimed, as his eye fell upon a small knob in the wall, “there’s the spring!”

  He touched it, and the door flew open.

  The next moment, he was felled to the ground by Jonathan Wild, who sprang into the room, followed by Abraham bearing the link. A single glance served to show the thief-taker how matters stood. From the slight sounds that had reached him in his place of confinement, he was aware that some persons had found their way to the scene of slaughter, and in a state of the most intense anxiety awaited the result of their investigation, prepared for the worst. Hearing the spring touched, he dashed through on the instant, and struck down the person who presented himself, with his bludgeon. On beholding the intruders, his fears changed to exultation, and he uttered a roar of satisfaction as he glared at them, which could only be likened to the cry of some savage denizen of the plains.

  On his appearance, Jack levelled a pistol at his head. But his hand was withheld by Thames.

  “Don’t fire,” cried the latter. “It is important not to slay him. He shall expiate his offences on the gibbet. You are my prisoner, murderer.”

  “Your prisoner!” echoed Jonathan, derisively. “You mistake, — you are mine. And so is your companion, — the convict Sheppard.”

  “Waste not another word with him, Thames,” cried Jack. “Upon him!”

  “Yield, villain, or die!” shouted Thames, drawing his sword and springing towards him.

  “There’s my answer!” rejoined Wild, hurling the bludgeon at him, with such fatal effect, that striking him on the head it brought him instantly to the ground.

  “Ah! traitor!” cried Jack, pulling the trigger of his pistol.

  Anticipating this, Wild avoided the shot by suddenly, ducking his head. He had a narrow escape, however; f
or, passing within an inch of him, the bullet burried itself deeply in the wall.

  Before he could fire a second shot, Jack had to defend himself from the thief-taker, who, with his drawn hanger, furiously assaulted him. Eluding the blow, Jack plucked his sword from the scabbard, and a desperate conflict began.

  “Pick up that blade, Nab,” vociferated Wild, finding himself hotly pressed, “and stab him. I won’t give him a chance.”

  “Cowardly villain!” cried Jack, as the Jew, obeying the orders of his principal, snatched up the weapon of the murdered man, and assailed him. “But I’ll yet disappoint you.”

  And springing backwards, he darted suddenly through the door.

  “After him,” cried Wild; “he mustn’t escape. Dead or alive, I’ll have him. Bring the link.”

  And, followed by Abraham, he rushed out of the room.

  Just as Jack got half way down the stairs, and Wild and the Jew reached the upper landing, the street-door was opened by Langley and Ireton, the latter of whom carried a lantern.

  “Stop him!” shouted Jonathan from the stair-head, “stop him! It’s Jack Sheppard!”

  “Give way!” cried Jack fiercely. “I’ll cut down him who opposes me.”

  The head turnkey, in all probability, would have obeyed. But, being pushed forward by his subordinate officer, he was compelled to make a stand.

  “You’d better surrender quietly, Jack,” he cried; “you’ve no chance.”’

  Instead of regarding him, Jack glanced over the iron bannisters, and measured the distance. But the fall was too great, and he abandoned the attempt.

  “We have him!” cried Jonathan, hurrying down the steps. “He can’t escape.”

  As this was said, Jack turned with the swiftness of thought, and shortening his sword, prepared to plunge it into the thief-taker’s heart. Before he could make the thrust, however, he was seized behind by Ireton, who flung himself upon him.

  “Caught!” shouted the head-turnkey. “I give you joy of the capture, Mr. Wild,” he added, as Jonathan came up, and assisted him to secure and disarm the prisoner. “I was coming to give you intelligence of a comical trick played by this rascal, when I find him here — the last place, I own, where I should have expected to find him.”