Jonathan's eyes glistened as he told over the notes. “You've given me more than the amount, Sir Rowland,” he said, after he had twice counted them, “or I've missed my reckoning. There's a hundred pounds too much.” “Keep it,” said Trenchard, haughtily. “I'll place it to your account, Sir Rowland,” answered the thief-taker, smiling significantly. “And now, shall we proceed to Queenhithe?” “Stay!” cried the other, taking a chair, “a word with you, Mr. Wild.” “As many as you please, Sir Rowland,” replied Jonathan, resuming his seat. “I'm quite at your disposal.” “I have a question to propose to you,” said Trenchard, “relating to--” and he hesitated. “Relating to the father of the boy--Thames Darrell,” supplied Jonathan. “I guessed what was coming. You desire to know who he was, Sir Rowland. Well, you _shall_ know.” “Without further fee?” inquired the knight. “Not exactly,” answered Jonathan, drily. “A secret is too valuable a commodity to be thrown away. But I said I wouldn't drive a hard bargain with you, and I won't. We are alone, Sir Rowland,” he added, snuffing the candles, glancing cautiously around, and lowering his tone, “and what you confide to me shall never transpire,--at least to your disadvantage.” “I am at a loss to understand you Sir,”, said Trenchard. “I'll make myself intelligible before I've done,” rejoined Wild. “I need not remind you, Sir Rowland, that I am aware you are deeply implicated in the Jacobite plot which is now known to be hatching.” “Ha!” ejaculated the other. “Of course, therefore,” pursued Jonathan, “you are acquainted with all the leaders of the proposed insurrection,--nay, must be in correspondence with them.” “What right have you to suppose this, Sir?” demanded Trenchard, sternly. “Have a moment's patience, Sir Rowland,” returned Wild; “and you shall hear. If you will furnish me with a list of these rebels, and with proofs of their treason, I will not only insure your safety, but will acquaint you with the real name and rank of your sister Aliva's husband, as well as with some particulars which will never otherwise reach your ears, concerning your lost sister, Constance.” “My sister Constance!” echoed the knight; “what of her?” “You agree to my proposal, then?” said Jonathan. “Do you take me for as great a villain as yourself, Sir?” said the knight, rising. “I took you for one who wouldn't hesitate to avail himself of any advantage chance might throw in his way,” returned the thief-taker, coldly. “I find I was in error. No matter. A time _may_ come,--and that ere long,--when you will be glad to purchase my secrets, and your own safety, at a dearer price than the heads of your companions.” “Are you ready?” said Trenchard, striding towards the door. “I am,” replied Jonathan, following him, “and so,” he added in an undertone, “are your captors.” A moment afterwards, they quitted the house. CHAPTER XVII. THE NIGHT-CELLAR.