“I say, Kneebone,” rejoined Blueskin, as he washed down an immense mouthful with another bumper, “do you recollect how nearly Mr. Wild and I were nabbing you in this very room, some nine years ago?” “I do,” replied Kneebone; “and now,” he added, aside, “the case is altered. I'm nearly nabbing _you_.” “A good deal has occurred since then, eh, Captain!” said Blueskin, nudging Jack. “Much that I would willingly forget. Nothing that I desire to remember,” replied Sheppard, sternly. “On that night,--in this room,--in your presence, Blueskin,--in yours Mr. Kneebone, Mrs. Wood struck me a blow which made me a robber.” “She has paid dearly for it,” muttered Blueskin. “She has,” rejoined Sheppard. “But I wish her hand had been as deadly as yours. On that night,--that fatal night,--Winifred crushed all the hopes that were rising in my heart. On that night, I surrendered myself to Jonathan Wild, and became--what I am.” “On that night, you first met me, love,” said Edgeworth Bess, endeavouring to take his hand, which he coldly withdrew. “And me,” added Mrs. Maggot tenderly. “Would I had never seen either of you!” cried Jack, rising and pacing the apartment with a hurried step. “Well, I'm sure Winifred could never have loved you as well as I do,” said Mrs. Maggot. “_You_!” cried Jack, scornfully. “Do you compare _your_ love--a love which all may purchase--with _hers_? No one has ever loved me.” “Except me, dear,” insinuated Edgeworth Bess. “I've been always true to you.” “Peace!” retorted Jack, with increased bitterness. “I'm your dupe no longer.” “What the devil's in the wind now, Captain?” cried Blueskin, in astonishment. “I'll tell you,” replied Jack, with forced calmness. “Within the last few minutes, all my guilty life has passed before me. Nine years ago, I was honest--was happy. Nine years ago, I worked in this very house--had a kind indulgent master, whom I robbed--twice robbed, at your instigation, villain; a mistress, whom you have murdered; a companion, whose friendship I have for ever forfeited; a mother, whose heart I have well-nigh broken. In this room was my ruin begun: in this room it should be ended.” “Come, come, don't take on thus, Captain,” cried Blueskin, rising and walking towards him. “If any one's to blame, it's me. I'm ready to bear it all.” “Can you make me honest?” cried Jack. “Can you make me other than a condemned felon? Can you make me not Jack Sheppard?” “No,” replied Blueskin; “and I wouldn't if I could.” “Curse you!” cried Jack, furiously,--“curse you!--curse you!” “Swear away, Captain,” rejoined Blueskin, coolly. “It'll ease your mind.” “Do you mock me?” cried Jack, levelling a pistol at him. “Not I,” replied Blueskin. “Take my life, if you're so disposed. You're welcome to it. And let's see if either of these women, who prate of their love for you, will do as much.” “This is folly,” cried Jack, controlling himself by a powerful effort.