“I have,” replied Wild; “and nothing but the evidence of my senses would have made me believe he was living, after the positive assurance I received to the contrary. He is at present with Mr. Wood,--the person whom you may remember adopted him,--at Dollis Hill, near Willesden; and it's a singular but fortunate circumstance, so far as we are concerned, that Mrs. Wood chanced to be murdered by Blueskin, the fellow who just left the room, on the very night of his return, as it has thrown the house into such confusion, and so distracted them, that he has had no time as yet for hostile movements.” “And what course do you propose to pursue in reference to him?” asked Sir Rowland. “My plan is a very simple one,” rejoined the thief-taker smiling bitterly. “I would treat him as you treated his father, Sir Rowland.” “Murder him!” cried Trenchard shuddering. “Ay, murder him, if you like the term,” returned Wild. “I should call it putting him out of the way. But no matter how you phrase it, the end is the same.” “I cannot consent to it,” replied Sir Rowland firmly. “Since the sea has spared him, I will spare him. It is in vain to struggle against the arm of fate. I will shed no more blood.” “And perish upon the gibbet,” rejoined Jonathan contemptuously. “Flight is still left me,” replied Trenchard. “I can escape to France.” “And do you think I'll allow you to depart,” cried Jonathan in a menacing tone, “and compromise _my_ safety? No, no. We are linked together in this matter, and must go through with it. You cannot--shall not retreat.” “Death and hell!” cried Sir Rowland, rising and drawing his sword; “do you think you can shackle my free will, villain?” “In this particular instance I do, Sir Rowland,” replied Jonathan, calmly, “because you are wholly in my power. But be patient, I am your fast friend. Thames Darrell MUST die. Our mutual safety requires it. Leave the means to me.” “More blood! more blood!” cried Trenchard, passing his hand with agony across his brow. “Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch--the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!--the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!--And must another be added to their number--their son! Horror!--let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet--my name tarnished--my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!--No, I cannot submit to that.”