“I believe you—I have,” rejoined the host. “As fine a drop of wine as ever you tasted in your life, on my honour.” The door now opened, and an old wrinkled hag appeared, who, in not very courteous terms, demanded,— “What now?” “What have you got to give a strange gentleman to eat?” said Bill. “Nothing,” replied the woman. “Then go and get something. Here’s a guinea. Be off with you, and do you bring a bottle of our best claret for the gentleman. He prefers wine, because it shouldn’t get in his head. Do you hear?” The old woman fixed her keen, twinkling eye upon Gray, and then, with a chuckle which quickly turned to a cough, she left the room on her errand. “We’ll settle all business after supper,” remarked Gray’s entertainer. “Then I should advise you to lay by very snug for some days. You can’t stay here, though.” “No—no,” said Gray, who had quite as much objection to remaining there as the thieves had to permitting him to do so. “I will find some place of refuge without doubt.” “Do you know the man whose head you so handsomely settled in the court?” “No,” said Gray. “It was in self-defence. He would have taken me.” “Self-defence be d—d,” remarked Gray’s first acquaintance. “He’s a good riddance: his name was Vaughan, and a pest he was to all the family in London.” “Tell us what lay you had been on,” said Bill, “that made the runners so hot after you?” “Oh, only a—a robbery—a little robbery,” said Gray, with a sickly attempt at a smile. “Oh, that was all?” “Yes; a robbery of two hundred pounds, of which you are to have one, you know, and to leave me the other.” “That’s quite agreed.” The door was now again opened, and the old woman appeared with a tray containing sundry viands from neighbouring shops dealing in ready-cooked victuals. Wine and brandy likewise formed a part of her burthen, and in a very few moments the table was spread, and Gray, who really, now that he felt himself comparatively safe, began to be tormented by the pangs of hunger, fell to with a vigorous appetite, upon a cold tongue of ample dimensions. “How do you like it?” said Bill, with a wink to his comrade. “’Tis excellent,” replied Gray, glancing towards the bottles. “You will take wine now?” “If you please.” A bottle was uncorked, and Gray relished the wine very much, along with the other items of his repast. The confederates drank small quantities of brandy from another bottle, and encouraged Gray by never allowing his glass to be empty to make great progress with the wine. Glass after glass he drank with a kind of recklessness foreign to his nature, but the liquor was drugged, and the very first draught had made a confusion in the intellect of Jacob Gray. Up to his brain the fumes mounted, awakening a desire still for more, and lighting up his eyes with a strange wild fire. His two companions now nodded and winked at each other openly, for Jacob Gray was too far gone in intoxication to heed them. “He’ll do,” remarked Bill in a whisper.