"Then begin with the beginning, Jacob," said Tom, lighting a cigar. "There—drink another glass of wine; and now fire away. But mind and tell me nothing save the truth; for I shall soon see if you are deceiving me." "I won't deceive you, Mr. Rainford," cried the boy; "and will soon convince you that I am in earnest. Besides, it is my interest to make a friend of you—even if it wasn't my inclination. And now to begin. You remember the morning you was had up at Bow Street? Well—Old Death had told me to watch you when you came out of Tullock's—to dog you about—to find out where you lived and any thing else I could glean concerning you." "What was that for?" demanded Tom. "He did not tell me _then_," answered Jacob; "but I have ascertained since—and you will be able to guess by and bye. Well, I _did_ follow you that morning—I saw you nabbed by Dykes, the runner—and I went up to Bunce's to tell Old Death what had happened. Then he cut off to Watkins and Bertinshaw, who came and bailed you. I was ordered to watch about the police-court, and see where you went to; and I followed you to Pall Mall—then I dogged you back again—and when the Jewess's case was over, I lost sight of you somehow or another." [Illustration] "And you duly made your report to Old Death?" said Tom inquiringly. "Of course," replied Jacob. "Two or three days afterwards I was set to watch you again, when you left Bunce's one afternoon; and I followed you down to an eating-house in the Strand. You stayed there about two hours; and at length you came out with a tall, handsome young gentleman——" "Ah! I recollect!" cried the highwayman: "it was Clarence Villiers. But go on, my boy." "I only mention all these little things to convince you that I am telling the exact truth," said Jacob. "Well—from the Strand I followed you and the gentleman as far as Bridge Street, Blackfriars, where you parted. I dogged you, Mr. Rainford, over to the Elephant and Castle Tavern, where you met a lady and the little boy——" "Yes—Charley Watts!" ejaculated the highwayman, gradually becoming more interested in Jacob Smith's narrative, because each successive step thereof afforded fresh evidence of its truth. "You joined the lady and the little boy," continued Jacob; "and when you all stopped for a short time at the window of a jeweller's shop, the lady lifted up her veil—and I knew her again." "Ah!" cried Tom, with a sudden start. "Yes, sir,—I recognised Miss Esther de Medina——But are you angry, sir? have I said anything to offend you?" "No—no, Jacob," returned the highwayman, the cloud which had gathered upon his countenance suddenly disappearing. "Go on, my boy." "Then I saw you take the lady and the little boy into the shop, and you bought a pair of ear-rings, which you gave to the lady; and as you came out again, I heard you say to her, '_This present is a kind of recompense for the diamonds which I made you give up_,'—or something to the same meaning."