“Set it down, I tell you,” thundered Blueskin, “or I shall do it a mischief.” “Never!” cried Mrs. Sheppard. Uttering a terrible imprecation, Blueskin placed the knife between his teeth, and endeavoured to seize the poor woman by the throat. In the struggle her cap fell off. The ruffian caught hold of her hair, and held her fast. The chamber rang with her shrieks. But her cries, instead of moving her assailant's compassion, only added to his fury. Planting his knee against her side, he pulled her towards him with one hand, while with the other he sought his knife. The child was now within reach; and, in another moment, he would have executed his deadly purpose, if an arm from behind had not felled him to the ground. When Mrs. Sheppard, who had been stricken down by the blow that prostrated her assailant, looked up, she perceived Jonathan Wild kneeling beside the body of Blueskin. He was holding the ring to the light, and narrowly examining the inscription. “Trenchard,” he muttered; “Aliva Trenchard--they were right, then, as to the name. Well, if she survives the accident--as the blood, who styles himself Sir Cecil, fancies she may do--this ring will make my fortune by leading to the discovery of the chief parties concerned in this strange affair.” “Is the poor lady alive?” asked Mrs. Sheppard, eagerly. “'Sblood!” exclaimed Jonathan, hastily thrusting the ring into his vest, and taking up a heavy horseman's pistol with which he had felled Blueskin,--“I thought you'd been senseless.” “Is she alive?” repeated the widow. “What's that to you?” demanded Jonathan, gruffly. “Oh, nothing--nothing,” returned Mrs. Sheppard. “But pray tell me if her husband has escaped?” “Her husband!” echoed Jonathan scornfully. “A _husband_ has little to fear from his wife's kinsfolk. Her _lover_, Darrell, has embarked upon the Thames, where, if he's not capsized by the squall, (for it's blowing like the devil,) he stands a good chance of getting his throat cut by his pursuers--ha! ha! I tracked 'em to the banks of the river, and should have followed to see it out, if the watermen hadn't refused to take me. However, as things have turned up, it's fortunate that I came back.” “It is, indeed,” replied Mrs. Sheppard; “most fortunate for me.” “For _you_!” exclaimed Jonathan; “don't flatter yourself that I'm thinking of you. Blueskin might have butchered you and your brat before I'd have lifted a finger to prevent him, if it hadn't suited my purposes to do so, and _he_ hadn't incurred my displeasure. I never forgive an injury. Your husband could have told you that.” “How had he offended you?” inquired the widow.