“Wot an inweterate old scoundrel it is,” observed Bingham. “Here--give him a glass of beer, Bill; for, by goles, he’ll suffocate--and the scaffold will be cheated of its dues after all.” The runner, to whom the command was addressed, approached Old Death and offered him a tumbler of porter: but the savage monster repulsed it brutally, ferocious growls escaping from his breast. “Well--leave him alone, then,” said Bingham. The runner accordingly resumed his seat and his attack upon the cold viands at the same time. “I tell you what it is, Mr. Ben Bones,” exclaimed Dykes: “I have seen a many free pardons--’specially where genelmen that got into trouble was concerned, for it’s seldom that a poor devil has interest enough to get such a thing--and I know precious well that the one I see just now, was as reglar as possible. It had the King’s own name--his sign-mangle, they call it--and his precious big seal--and the Home Secretary’s signatur underneath.” “He will escape--he will escape yet!” yelled forth Old Death, clasping his hands together, as if in mortal agony. “The wretch--he will escape the gibbet--he--he----” And again he gasped in so frightful a manner that his eyes seemed to be starting from his head, and his attenuated frame literally writhed in convulsive spasms. “Ah!” he exclaimed, after a long pause, during which his shocking appearance had produced a dead silence of horror and amazement: “I have thought of something”--and he grinned malignantly. “Did you not say that men had been spirited away--in that Torrens’ affair----” “To be sure I did,” answered Bingham, to whom the question was addressed: “and Tom Rain did it. Well, what about that, Mr. Dykes?” “Why--that seems to be knocked on the head also,” was the reply: “though I have no doubt we shall get the reward, because we did our dooty in arresting him; and if so be that the Home Secretary chooses to grant him a pardon in that respect also----” “He won’t--he won’t!” ejaculated Old Death, with feverish--nay, with hysterical excitement. “He does not dare do it! No--no--Tom Rain must swing for that, at all events! ’Tis as good as being accessory to the murder--’tis shielding the murderers! Ha! ah! he will swing for that--he will swing for that!” “I’m blessed if he will, though,” said Dykes, bluntly; “for it seems that he’s got a paper signed by the King which will put him all to rights--and though I don’t exactly understand that part of the business, I’m pretty sure Tom Rain is in no danger. Lord Ellingham has got the matter in hand; and he has gone up to the Home Office. That’s why I left Mr. Rainford at liberty--just taking his word of honour that he wouldn’t bolt.” “He’ll deceive you--he’ll run away--he’ll escape!” cried Old Death. “You are mad to trust him! Go--seize on him again--put hand-cuffs----”