“Let him alone,” said Trenchard authoritatively, “I have another question to propose. Do you know whoso portrait this is?”
“I do not,” replied Thames, repressing his tears, “but I believe it to be the portrait of my father.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed the knight, in astonishment. “Is your father alive?”
“No,” returned Thames; “he was assassinated while I was an infant.”
“Who told you this is his portrait?” demanded Trenchard.
“My heart,” rejoined Thames, firmly; “which now tells me I am in the presence of his murderer.”
“That’s me,” interposed Jonathan; “a thief-taker is always a murderer in the eyes of a thief. I’m almost sorry your suspicions are unfounded, if your father in any way resembled you, my youngster. But I can tell you who’ll have the pleasure of hanging your father’s son; and that’s a person not a hundred miles distant from you at this moment — ha! ha!”
As he said this, the door was opened, and Charcam entered, accompanied by a dwarfish, shabby-looking man, in a brown serge frock, with coarse Jewish features, and a long red beard. Between the Jew and the attendant came Jack Sheppard; while a crowd of servants, attracted by the news, that the investigation of a robbery was going forward, lingered at the doorway in hopes of catching something of the proceedings.
When Jack was brought in, he cast a rapid glance around him, and perceiving Thames in the custody of Jonathan, instantly divined how matters stood. As he looked in this direction, Wild gave him a significant wink, the meaning of which he was not slow to comprehend.
“Get it over quickly,” said Trenchard, in a whisper to the thief-taker.
Jonathan nodded assent.
“What’s your name?” he said, addressing the audacious lad, who was looking about him as coolly as if nothing material was going on.
“Jack Sheppard,” returned the boy, fixing his eyes upon a portrait of the Earl of Mar. “Who’s that queer cove in the full-bottomed wig?”
“Attend to me, sirrah,” rejoined Wild, sternly. “Do you know this picture?” he added, with another significant look, and pointing to the miniature.
“I do,” replied Jack, carelessly.
“That’s well. Can you inform us whence it came?”
“I should think so.”
“State the facts, then.”
“It came from Lady Trafford’s jewel-box.”
Here a murmur of amazement arose from the assemblage outside.
“Close the door!” commanded Trenchard, impatiently.
“In my opinion, Sir Rowland,” suggested Jonathan; “you’d better allow the court to remain open.”
“Be it so,” replied the knight, who saw the force of this reasoning. “Continue the proceedings.”
“You say that the miniature was abstracted from Lady Trafford’s jewel-box,” said Jonathan, in a loud voice. “Who took it thence?”
“Thames Darrell; the boy at your side.”
“Jack!” cried Thames, in indignant surprise.
But Sheppard took no notice of the exclamation.
Jack Sheppard accused Thames Darrell of the theft
A loud buzz of curiosity circulated among the domestics; some of whom — especially the females — leaned forward to obtain a peep at the culprit.
“Si — lence!” vociferated Charcam, laying great emphasis on the last syllable.
“Were you present at the time of the robbery?” pursued Jonathan.
“I was,” answered Sheppard.
“And will swear to it?”
“I will.”
“Liar!” ejaculated Thames.
“Enough!” exclaimed Wild, triumphantly.
“Close the court, Mr. Charcoal. They’ve heard quite enough for my purpose,” he muttered, as his orders were obeyed, and the domestics excluded. “It’s too late to carry ’em before a magistrate now, Sir Rowland; so, with your permission, I’ll give ’em a night’s lodging in Saint Giles’s round-house. You, Jack Sheppard, have nothing to fear, as you’ve become evidence against your accomplice. To-morrow, I shall carry you before Justice Walters, who’ll take your information; and I’ve no doubt but Thames Darrell will be fully committed. Now, for the cage, my pretty canary-bird. Before we start, I’ll accommodate you with a pair of ruffles.” And he proceeded to handcuff his captive.
“Hear me!” cried Thames, bursting into tears. “I am innocent. I could not have committed this robbery. I have only just left Wych Street. Send for Mr. Wood, and you’ll find that I’ve spoken the truth.”
“You’d better hold your peace, my lad,” observed Jonathan, in a menacing tone.
“Lady Trafford would not have thus condemned me!” cried Thames.
“Away with him!” exclaimed Sir Rowland, impatiently.
“Take the prisoners below, Nab,” said Jonathan, addressing the dwarfish Jew; “I’ll join you in an instant.”
The bearded miscreant seized Jack by the waist, and Thames by the nape of the neck, and marched off, like the ogre in the fairy tale, with a boy under each arm, while Charcam brought upt the rear.
CHAPTER 10.
MOTHER AND SON.
They had scarcely been gone a moment, when a confused noise was heard without, and Charcam re-entered the room, with a countenance of the utmost bewilderment and alarm.
“What’s the matter with the man?” demanded Wild.
“Her ladyship —” faltered the attendant.
“What of her?” cried the knight. “Is she returned!”
“Y— e — s, Sir Rowland,” stammered Charcam.
“The devil!” ejaculated Jonathan. “Here’s a cross-bite.”
“But that’s not all, your honour,” continued Charcam; “Mrs. Norris says she’s dying.”
“Dying!” echoed the knight.
“Dying, Sir Rowland. She was taken dreadfully ill on the road, with spasms and short breath, and swoonings — worse than ever she was before. And Mrs. Norris was so frightened that she ordered the postboys to drive back as fast as they could. She never expected to get her ladyship home alive.”
“My God!” cried Trenchard, stunned by the intelligence, “I have killed her.”
“No doubt,” rejoined Wild, with a sneer; “but don’t let all the world know it.”
“They’re lifting her out of the carriage,” interposed Charcam; “will it please your honour to send for some advice and the chaplain?”
“Fly for both,” returned Sir Rowland, in a tone of bitter anguish.
“Stay!” interposed Jonathan. “Where are the boys?”
“In the hall.”