Jonathan cast a hasty glance around, to see that all was properly arranged for his purpose; placed a chair with its back to the door; disposed the lights on the table so as to throw the entrance of the room more into shadow; and then flung himself into a seat to await Sir Rowland's arrival. He had not to wait long. Enveloped in a large cloak, Sir Rowland stalked into the room, and took the seat assigned him; while the Jew, who received a private signal from Jonathan, set down the link near the entrance of the Well Hole, and, having made fast the door, crept behind one of the cases. Fancying they were alone, Sir Rowland threw aside his cloak, and produced a heavy bag of money, which he flung upon the table; and, when Wild had feasted his greedy eyes sufficiently upon its golden contents, he handed him a pocket-book filled with notes. “You have behaved like a man of honour, Sir Rowland,” said Wild, after he had twice told over the money. “Right to a farthing.” “Give me an acquittance,” said Trenchard. “It's scarcely necessary,” replied Wild; “however, if you require it, certainly. There it is. 'Received from Sir Rowland Trenchard, 15,000£. --Jonathan Wild: August 31st, 1724.' Will that do?” “It will,” replied Trenchard. “This is our last transaction together.” “I hope not,” replied Wild. “It is the last,” continued the knight, sternly; “and I trust we may never meet again, I have paid you this large sum--not because you are entitled to it, for you have failed in what you undertook to do, but because I desire to be troubled with you no further. I have now settled my affairs, and made every preparation for my departure to France, where I shall spend the remainder of my days. And I have made such arrangements that at my decease tardy justice will be done my injured nephew.” “You have made no such arrangements as will compromise me, I hope, Sir Rowland?” said Wild, hastily. “While I live you are safe,” rejoined Trenchard; “after my death I can answer for nothing.” “'Sblood!” exclaimed Wild, uneasily. “This alters the case materially. When were you last confessed, Sir Rowland?” he added abruptly. “Why do you ask?” rejoined the other haughtily. “Because--because I'm always distrustful of a priest,” rejoined Jonathan. “I have just parted from one,” said Trenchard. “So much the worse,” replied Jonathan, rising and taking a turn, as if uncertain what to do. “So much the better,” rejoined Sir Rowland. “He who stands on the verge of the grave, as I do, should never be unprepared.” “You're strangely superstitious, Sir Rowland,” said Jonathan, halting, and looking steadfastly at him. “If I were so, I should not be here,” returned Trenchard. “How so?” asked Wild, curiously. “I had a terrible dream last night. I thought my sister and her murdered husband dragged me hither, to this very room, and commanded you to slay me.”