“My boots! Fire and fury! They won't fit you; they are too large. Besides, how am I to ride home without them?” “Don't distress yourself,” returned Jack, “you shall walk. Now,” he added, as his commands were reluctantly obeyed, “help me on with them.” Quilt knelt down, as if he meant to comply; but, watching his opportunity, he made a sudden grasp at Sheppard's leg, with the intention of overthrowing him. But Jack was too nimble for him. Striking out his foot, he knocked half a dozen teeth down the janizary's throat; and, seconding the kick with a blow on the head from the butt-end of the pistol, stretched him, senseless and bleeding on the ground. “Like master like man,” observed Jack as he rolled the inanimate body to the side of the road. “From Jonathan Wild's confidential servant what could be expected but treachery?” With this, he proceeded to dress himself in Quilt Arnold's clothes, pulled the wig over his face and eyes so as completely to conceal his features, slouched the hat over his brows, drew the huge boots above his knees, and muffled himself up in the best way he could. On searching the coat, he found, amongst other matters, a mask, a key, and a pocket-book. The latter appeared to contain several papers, which Jack carefully put by, in the hope that they might turn out of importance in a scheme of vengeance which he meditated against the thief-taker. He then mounted the jaded hack, which had long since regained its legs, and was quietly browsing the grass at the road-side, and, striking spurs into its side, rode off. He had not proceeded far when he encountered Sir Rowland, who, having missed his attendant, had returned to look after him. “What has delayed you?” demanded the knight impatiently. “My horse has had a fall,” replied Jack, assuming to perfection--for he was a capital mimic,--the tones of Quilt Arnold. “It was some time before I could get him to move.” “I fancied I heard voices,” rejoined Sir Rowland. “So did I,” answered Jack; “we had better move on. This is a noted place for highwaymen.” “I thought you told me that the rascal who has so long been the terror of the town--Jack Sheppard--was in custody.” “So he is,” returned Jack; “but there's no saying how long he may remain so. Besides, there are greater rascals than Jack Sheppard at liberty, Sir Rowland.” Sir Rowland made no reply, but angrily quickened his pace. The pair then descended Saffron-hill, threaded Field-lane, and, entering Holborn, passed over the little bridge which then crossed the muddy waters of Fleet-ditch, mounted Snow-hill, and soon drew in the bridle before Jonathan Wild's door. Aware of Quilt Arnold's mode of proceeding, Jack instantly dismounted, and, instead of knocking, opened the door with the pass-key. The porter instantly made his appearance, and Sheppard ordered him to take care of the horses. “Well, what sort of journey have you had, Quilt?” asked the man as he hastened to assist Sir Rowland to dismount.