“You have violated the laws of hospitality, Mr. Kneebone, I came hither as your guest. You have betrayed me.” “What faith is to be kept with a felon?” replied the woollen-draper, disdainfully. “He who breaks faith with his benefactor may well justify himself thus,” answered Jack. “I have not trusted you. Others who have done, have found you false.” “I don't understand you,” replied Kneebone, in some confusion. “You soon shall,” rejoined Sheppard. “Where are the packets committed to your charge by Sir Rowland Trenchard?” “The packets!” exclaimed Kneebone, in alarm. “It is useless to deny it,” replied Jack. “You were watched to-night by Blueskin. You met Sir Rowland at the house of a Romisch priest, Father Spencer. Two packets were committed to your charge, which you undertook to deliver,--one to another priest, Sir Rowland's chaplain, at Manchester, the other to Mr. Wood. Produce them!” “Never!” replied Kneebone. “Then, by Heaven! you are a dead man!” replied Jack, cocking a pistol, and pointing it deliberately at his head. “I give you one minute for reflection. After that time nothing shall save you.” There was a brief, breathless pause. Even Blueskin looked on with anxiety. “It is past,” said Jack, placing his finger on the trigger. “Hold!” cried Kneebone, flinging down the packets; “they are nothing to me.” “But they are everything to me,” cried Jack, stooping to pick them up. “These packets will establish Thames Darrell's birth, win him his inheritance, and procure him the hand of Winifred Wood.” “Don't be too sure of that,” rejoined Kneebone, snatching up the staff, and aiming a blow at his head, which was fortunately warded off by Mrs. Maggot, who promptly interposed her cudgel. “Defend yourself!” cried Jack, drawing his sword. “Leave his punishment to me, Jack,” said Mrs. Maggot. “I've the Bridewell account to settle.” “Be it so,” replied Jack, putting up his blade. “I've a good deal to do. Show him no quarter, Poll. He deserves none.” “And shall find none,” replied the Amazon. “Now, Mr. Kneebone,” she added, drawing up her magnificent figure to its full height, and making the heavy cudgel whistle through the air, “look to yourself.” “Stand off, Poll,” rejoined the woollen-draper; “I don't want to hurt you. It shall never be said that I raised my arm willingly against a woman.” “I'll forgive you all the harm you do me,” rejoined the Amazon. “What! you still hesitate! Will that rouse you, coward?” And she gave him a smart rap on the head. “Coward!” cried Kneebone. “Neither man nor woman shall apply that term to me. If you forget your sex, jade, I must forget mine.” With this, he attacked her vigorously in his turn.