The loud noise proceeding from the couch proved that their slumbers were deep and real; and unconscious of the danger in which she stood, Mrs. Wood turned over to obtain a more comfortable position. During this movement, Jack grasped the barrel of his pistol, held in his breath, and motioned to Blueskin, who bared a long knife, to keep still. The momentary alarm over, he threw a piece of-wash leather over a bureau, so as to deaden the sound, and instantly broke it open with a small crow-bar. While he was filling his pockets with golden coin from this store, Blueskin had pulled the plate-chest from under the bed, and having forced it open, began filling a canvass bag with its contents,--silver coffee-pots, chocolate-dishes, waiters trays, tankards, goblets, and candlesticks. It might be supposed that these articles, when thrust together into the bag, would have jingled; but these skilful practitioners managed matters so well that no noise was made. After rifling the room of everything portable, including some of Mrs. Wood's ornaments and wearing apparel, they prepared to depart. Jack then intimated his intention of visiting Winifred's chamber, in which several articles of value were known to be kept; but as, notwithstanding his reckless character, he still retained a feeling of respect for the object of his boyish affections, he would not suffer Blueskin to accompany him, so he commanded him to keep watch over the sleepers--strictly enjoining him, however, to do them no injury. Again having recourse to the centre-bit,--for Winifred's door was locked,--Jack had nearly cut out a panel, when a sudden outcry was raised in the carpenter's chamber. The next moment, a struggle was heard, and Blueskin appeared at the door, followed by Mrs. Wood. Jack instantly extinguished the light, and called to his comrade to come after him. But Blueskin found it impossible to make off,--at least with the spoil,--Mrs. Wood having laid hold of the canvass-bag. “Give back the things!” cried the, lady. “Help!--help, Mr. Wood!” “Leave go!” thundered Blueskin--“leave go--you'd better!”--and he held the sack as firmly as he could with one hand, while with the other he searched for his knife. “No, I won't leave go!” screamed Mrs. Wood. “Fire!--murder--thieves!--I've got one of 'em!” “Come along,” cried Jack. “I can't,” answered Blueskin. “This she-devil has got hold of the sack. Leave go, I tell you!” and he forced open the knife with his teeth. “Help!--murder!--thieves!” screamed Mrs. Wood;--“Owen--Owen!--Thames, help!” “Coming!” cried Mr. Wood, leaping from the bed. “Where are you?” “Here,” replied Mrs. Wood. “Help--I'll hold him!” “Leave her,” cried Jack, darting down stairs, amid a furious ringing of bells,--“the house is alarmed,--follow me!” “Curses light on you!” cried Blueskin, savagely; “since you won't be advised, take your fate.”