This suggestion being approved, was instantly acted upon, and the thief-taker, accompanied by a body of the grenadiers, rode forward. The train, meantime, had passed Marylebone Lane, when it again paused for a moment, at Jack's request, near the door of a public-house called the City of Oxford. Scarcely had it come to a halt, when a stalwart man shouldered his way, in spite of their opposition, through the lines of soldiery to the cart, and offered his large horny hand to the prisoner. “I told you I would call to bid you farewell, Mr. Figg,” said Jack. “So you did,” replied the prize-fighter. “Sorry you're obliged to keep your word. Heard of your last escape. Hoped you'd not be retaken. Never sent for the shirt.” “I didn't want it,” replied Jack; “but who are those gentlemen?” “Friends of yours,” replied Figg; “come to see you;--Sir James Thornhill, Mr. Hogarth, and Mr. Gay. They send you every good wish.” “Offer them my hearty thanks,” replied Jack, waving his hand to the group, all of whom returned the salutation. “And now, farewell, Mr. Figg! In a few minutes, all will be over.” Figg turned aside to hide the tears that started to his eyes,--for the stout prize-fighter, with a man's courage, had a woman's heart,--and the procession again set forward. CHAPTER XXXII. THE CLOSING SCENE. Tyburn was now at hand. Over the sea of heads arose a black and dismal object. It was the gallows. Jack, whose back was towards it, did not see it; but he heard, from the pitying exclamations of the crowd, that it was in view. This circumstance produced no further alteration in his demeanour except that he endeavoured to abstract himself from the surrounding scene, and bend his attention to the prayers which the ordinary was reciting. Just as he had succeeded in fixing his attention, it was again shaken, and he was almost unnerved by the sight of Mr. Wood, who was standing at the edge of a raised platform, anxiously waving his hand to him. Jack instantly sprang to his feet, and as his guards construed the motion into an attempt to escape, several of them drew their swords and motioned to him to sit down. But Jack did not heed them. His looks were fixed on his old benefactor. “God in Heaven bless you, unhappy boy!” cried. Wood, bursting into tears, “God bless you!” Jack extended his hand towards him, and looked anxiously for Thames; but he was nowhere to be seen. A severe pang shot through Jack's heart, and he would have given worlds if he possessed them to have seen his friend once more. The wish was vain: and, endeavouring to banish every earthly thought, he addressed himself deeply and sincerely to prayer. While this was passing, Jonathan had ridden back to Marvel to tell him that all was ready, and to give him his last instructions. “You'll lose no time,” said the thief-taker. “A hundred pounds if you do it quickly.” “Rely on me,” rejoined the executioner, throwing away his pipe, which was just finished.