"I ought to add," continued Winifred, "that one of her shoes was picked up in the garden, and that prints of her feet were discovered along the soft mould; whether made in flying from any one, or from rushing forth in distracted terror, it is impossible to say. My father thought the latter. He has had the whole country searched; but hitherto without success." "I know _where_ she will be found, and _how_," rejoined Jack with a shudder. "I have something further to tell you," pursued Winifred. "Shortly after your last visit to Dollis Hill, my father was one evening waylaid by a man, who informed him that he had something to communicate respecting Thames, and had a large sum of money, and some important documents to deliver to him, which would be given up, provided he would undertake to procure your liberation." "It was Blueskin," observed Jack. "So my father thought," replied Winifred; "and he therefore instantly fired upon him. But though the shot took effect, as was evident from the stains on the ground, the villain escaped." "Your father did right," replied Jack, with some bitterness. "But if he had not fired that shot, he might have saved Thames, and possessed himself of papers which would have established his birth, and his right to the estates of the Trenchard family." "Would you have had him spare my mother's murderer?" cried Winifred. "Ho, no," replied Jack. "And yet--but it is only part of the chain of ill-luck that seems wound around me. Listen to me, Winifred." And he hastily related the occurrences in Jonathan Wild's house. The account of the discovery of Sir Rowland's murder filled Winifred with alarm; but when she learnt what had befallen Thames--how he had been stricken down by the thief-taker's bludgeon, and left for dead, she uttered a piercing scream, fainted, and would have fallen, if Jack had not caught her in his arms. Jack had well-nigh fallen too. The idea that he held in his arms the girl whom he had once so passionately loved, and for whom he still retained an ardent but hopeless attachment, almost overcame him. Gazing at her with eyes blinded with tears, he imprinted one brotherly kiss upon her lips. It was the first--and the last! At this juncture, the handle of the door was tried, and the voice of Mr. Wood was heard without, angrily demanding admittance. "What's the matter?" he cried. "I thought I heard a scream. Why is the door fastened? Open it directly!" "Are you alone?" asked Jack, mimicking the voice of Kneebone. "What for?" demanded Wood. "Open the door, I say, or I'll burst it open."