"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.