“Jonathan Wild was my husband's bitterest enemy,” said Mrs. Sheppard. “He first seduced him from the paths of honesty, and then betrayed him to a shameful death, and he has sworn to do the same thing by my son. Oh, Heavens; that I should have ever indulged a hope of happiness while that terrible man lives!” “Compose yourself, Joan,” said Wood; “all will yet be well.” “Oh, no,--no,” replied Mrs. Sheppard, distractedly. “All cannot be well, if this is true. Tell me, Sir,” she added, with forced calmness, and grasping Wood's arm; “what has Jack done? Tell me in a word, that I may know the worst. I can bear anything but suspense.” “You're agitating yourself unnecessarily, Joan,” returned Wood, in a soothing voice. “Jack has been keeping bad company. That's the only fault I know of.” “Thank God for that!” ejaculated Mrs. Sheppard, fervently. “Then it is not too late to save him. Where is he, Sir? Can I see him?” “No, that you can't,” answered Mrs. Wood; “he has gone out without leave, and has taken Thames Darrell with him. If I were Mr. Wood, when he does return, I'd send him about his business. I wouldn't keep an apprentice to set my authority at defiance.” Mr. Wood's reply, if he intended any, was cut short by a loud knocking at the door. “'Odd's-my-life!--what's that?” he cried, greatly alarmed. “It's Jonathan Wild come back with a troop of constables at his heels, to search the house,” rejoined Mrs. Wood, in equal trepidation. “We shall all be murdered. Oh! that Mr. Kneebone were here to protect me!” “If it _is_ Jonathan,” rejoined Wood, “it is very well for Mr. Kneebone he's not here. He'd have enough to do to protect himself, without attending to you. I declare I'm almost afraid to go to the door. Something, I'm convinced, has happened to the boys.” “Has Jonathan Wild been here to-day?” asked Mrs. Sheppard, anxiously. “To be sure he has!” returned Mrs. Wood; “and Blueskin, too. They're only just gone, mercy on us! what a clatter,” she added, as the knocking was repeated more violently than before. While the carpenter irresolutely quitted the room, with a strong presentiment of ill upon his mind, a light quick step was heard descending the stairs, and before he could call out to prevent it, a man was admitted into the passage. “Is this Misther Wudd's, my pretty miss?” demanded the rough voice of the Irish watchman. “It is”, seplied Winifred; “have you brought any tidings of Thames Darrell!” “Troth have I!” replied Terence: “but, bless your angilic face, how did you contrive to guess that?” “Is he well?--is he safe?--is he coming back,” cried the little girl, disregarding the question. “He's in St. Giles's round-house,” answered Terence; “but tell Mr. Wudd I'm here, and have brought him a message from his unlawful son, and don't be detainin' me, my darlin', for there's not a minute to lose if the poor lad's to be recused from the clutches of that thief and thief-taker o' the wurld, Jonathan Wild.”