William Harrison Ainsworth

The Essential Works of William Harrison Ainsworth


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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,