On quitting the Lodge, Wild repaired to his own habitation. Telling the
porter that he would attend to the house himself, he bade him go in
search of Jack Sheppard. There was something in Jonathan's manner, as he
issued this command, that struck the man as singular, and he afterwards
recalled it. He, however, made no remark at the time, but instantly
prepared to set out. As soon as he was gone, Jonathan went up stairs to
the audience-chamber; and, sitting down, appeared for some time buried
in reflection. The dark and desperate thoughts that were passing through
his mind at this time will presently be shown. After a while, he raised
his eyes; and, if their glance could have been witnessed at the moment,
it could not have been easily forgotten. Muttering something to himself,
he appeared to be telling upon his fingers the advantages and
disadvantages of some scheme he had in contemplation. That he had
resolved upon its execution, whatever it might be, was evident from his
saying aloud,--
"I will do it. So good an opportunity may never occur again."
Upon this he arose, and paced the room hastily backwards and forwards,
as if further arranging his plans. He then unlocked a cabinet, opened a
secret drawer, and, lifter ransacking its contents, discovered a paper
he was in search of, and a glove. Laying these carefully aside, he
restored the drawer to its place. His next occupation was to take out
his pistols, examine the priming, and rub the flints. His sword then
came in for his scrutiny: he felt at, and appeared satisfied with its
edge. This employment seemed to afford him the highest satisfaction; for
a diabolical grin--it cannot be called a smile--played upon his face all
the time he was engaged in it. His sword done with, he took up the
bludgeon; balanced it in his hand; upon the points of his fingers; and
let it fall with a smash, intentionally, upon the table.
"After all," he said, "this is the safest weapon. No instrument I've
ever used has done me such good service. It _shall_ be the bludgeon." So
saying, he slung it upon his wrist.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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