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 surprise 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; for, 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."
"You've arrived in the very nick of time," rejoined Jonathan; "and I'll
take care your services are not overlooked."
"Mr. Ireton," cried Jack, in accents of the most urgent entreaty,
"before you take me hence, I implore you--if you would further the ends
of justice--search this house. One of the most barbarous murders ever
committed has just been perpetrated by the monster Wild. You will find
proofs of the bloody deed in his room. But go thither at once, I beseech
you, before he has time to remove them."
"Mr. Ireton is welcome to search every room in my house if he pleases,"
said Jonathan, in a tone of bravado. "As soon as we've conveyed you to
Newgate, I'll accompany him."
"Mr. Ireton will do no such thing," replied the head-turnkey. "Bless
your soul! d'ye think I'm to be gammoned by such nonsense. Not I. I'm
not quite such a greenhorn as Shotbolt, Jack, whatever you may think."
"For mercy's sake go up stairs," implored Sheppard. "I have not told you
half. There's a man dying--Captain Darrell. Take me with you. Place a
pistol at my ear, and shoot me, if I've told you false."
"And, what good would that do?" replied Ireton, sarcastically. "To shoot
you would be to lose the reward. You act your part capitally, but it
won't do."
"Won't you go?" cried Jack passionately. "Mr. Langley, I appeal to you.
Murder, I say, has been done! Another murder will be committed if you
don't prevent it. The blood will rest on your head. Do you hear me, Sir?
Won't you stir!"
"Not a step," replied Langley, gruffly.
"Off with him to Newgate!" cried Jonathan. "Ireton, as you captured him,
the reward is yours. But I request that a third may be given to
Langley."
"It shall be, Sir," replied Ireton, bowing. "Now come along, Jack."
"Miscreants!" cried Sheppard, almost driven frantic by the violence of
his emotions; "you're all in league with him."
"Away with him!" cried Jonathan. "I'll see him fettered myself. Remain
at the door, Nab," he added, loitering for a moment behind the others,
"and let no one in, or out."
Jack, meanwhile, was carried to Newgate. Austin could scarcely credit
his senses when he beheld him. Shotbolt, who had in some degree
recovered from the effects of his previous mortification, was thrown
into an ecstacy of delight, and could not sufficiently exult over the
prisoner. Mrs. Spurling had retired for the night. Jack appealed to the
new auditors, and again detailed his story, but with no better success
than heretofore. His statement was treated with derision. Having seen
him heavily ironed, and placed in the Condemned Hold, Jonathan recrossed
the street.
He found Abraham on guard as he had left him.
"Has any one been here?" he asked.
"No von," replied the Jew.
"That's well," replied Wild, entering the house, and fastening the door.
"And now to dispose of our dead. Why, Nab, you shake as if you'd got an
ague?" he added, turning to the Jew, whose teeth chattered audibly.
"I haven't quite recovered the fright I got in the Vell-Hole," replied
Abraham.
On returning to the audience-chamber, Jonathan found the inanimate body
of Thames Darrell lying where he had left it; but, on examining it, he
remarked that the pockets were turned inside out, and had evidently been
rifled. Startled by this circumstance, he looked around, and perceived
that the trap-door,--which has been mentioned as communicating with a
secret staircase,--was open. He, next, discovered that Blueskin was
gone; and, pursuing his scrutiny, found that he had carried off all the
banknotes, gold, and letters,--including, what Jonathan himself was not
aware of,--the two packets which he had abstracted from the person of
Thames. Uttering a terrible imprecation, Jonathan snatched up the link,
and hastily descended the stairs, leaving the Jew behind him. After a
careful search below, he could detect no trace of Blueskin. But, finding
the cellar-door open, concluded he had got out that way.
Returning to the audience-chamber in a by-no-means enviable state of
mind, he commanded the Jew to throw the body of Thames into the Well
Hole.
"You musht do dat shob yourself, Mishter Vild," rejoined Abraham,
shaking his head. "No prize shall indushe me to enter dat horrid plashe
again."
"Fool!" cried Wild, taking up the body, "what are you afraid of? After
all," he added, pausing, "he may be of more use to me alive than dead."
Adhering to this change of plan, he ordered Abraham to follow him, and,
descending the secret stairs once more, carried the wounded man into the
lower part of the premises. Unlocking several doors, he came to a dark
vault, that would have rivalled the gloomiest cell in Newgate, into
which he thrust Thames, and fastened the door.
"Go to the pump, Nab," he said, when this was done, "and fill a pail
with water. We must wash out those stains up stairs, and burn the cloth.
Blood, they say, won't come out. But I never found any truth in the
saying. When I've had an hour's rest, I'll be after Blueskin."