The captain, without heeding this question, continued, as he stirred the sugar in his glass, “Well, out I sneaked, and as soon as I had got to my own door I turned round and saw Sharp the runner on the other side of the way--I felt deuced queer. However, I went in, sat down, and began to think. I saw that it was up with us, so far as the old uns were concerned; and it might be worth while to find out if the young uns really were dead.” “Then you did not know that after all! I thought so. Oh, Jerry!” “Why, look you, man, it was not our interest to take their side if we could make our bargain out of the other. ‘Cause why? You are only one witness--you are a good fellow, but poor, and with very shaky nerves, Will. You does not know what them big wigs are when a man’s caged in a witness-box--they flank one up, and they flank one down, and they bully and bother, till one’s like a horse at Astley’s dancing on hot iron. If your testimony broke down, why it would be all up with the case, and what then would become of us? Besides,” added the captain, with dignified candour, “I have been lagged, it’s no use denying it; I am back before my time. Inquiries about your respectability would soon bring the bulkies about me. And you would not have poor Jerry sent back to that d---d low place on t’other side of the herring-pond, would you?” “Ah, Jerry!” said William, kindly placing his hand in his brother’s, “you know I helped you to escape; I left all to come over with you.” “So you did, and you’re a good fellow; though as to leaving all, why you had got rid of all first. And when you told me about the marriage, did not I say that I saw our way to a snug thing for life? But to return to my story. There is a danger in going with the youngsters. But since, Will,--since nothing but hard words is to be got on the other side, we’ll do our duty, and I’ll find them out, and do the best I can for us--that is, if they be yet above ground. And now I’ll own to you that I think I knows that the younger one is alive.” “You do?”