“I can’t say I did,” replied Wood, somewhat reluctantly; “what with the confusion incident to the storm, and the subsequent press of business, I put it off till it was too late. I’ve often regretted that I didn’t investigate the matter. However, it doesn’t much signify. All concerned in the dark transaction must have perished.”
“Are you sure of that,” inquired Jackson.
“As sure as one reasonably can be. I saw their boat swept away, and heard the roar of the fall beneath the bridge; and no one, who was present, could doubt the result. If the principal instigator of the crime, whom I afterwards encountered on the platform, and who was dashed into the raging flood by the shower of bricks, escaped, his preservation must have been indeed miraculous.”
“Your own was equally so,” said Jackson ironically. “What if he did escape?”
“My utmost efforts should be used to bring him to justice.”
“Hum!”
“Have you any reason to suppose he survived the accident?” inquired Thames eagerly.
Jackson smiled and put on the air of a man who knows more than he cares to tell.
“I merely asked the question,” he said, after he had enjoyed the boy’s suspense for a moment.
The hope that had been suddenly kindled in the youth’s bosom was as suddenly extinguished.
“If I thought he lived ——” observed Wood.
“If,” interrupted Jackson, changing his tone: “he does live. And it has been well for you that he imagines the child was drowned.”
“Who is he?” asked Thames impatiently.
“You’re inquisitive, young gentleman,” replied Jackson, coldly. “When you’re older, you’ll know that secrets of importance are not disclosed gratuitously. Your adoptive father understands mankind better.”
“I’d give half I’m worth to hang the villain, and restore this boy to his rights,” said Mr. Wood.
“How do you know he has any rights to be restored to?” returned Jackson, with a grin. “Judging from what you tell me, I’ve no doubt he’s the illegitimate offspring of some handsome, but lowborn profligate; in which case, he’ll neither have name, nor wealth for his inheritance. The assassination, as you call it, was, obviously, the vengeance of a kinsman of the injured lady, who no doubt was of good family, upon her seducer. The less said, therefore, on this point the better; because, as nothing is to be gained by it, it would only be trouble thrown away. But, if you have any particular fancy for hanging the gentleman, who chose to take the law into his own hands — and I think your motive extremely disinterested and praiseworthy — why, it’s just possible, if you make it worth my while, that your desires may be gratified.”
“I don’t see how this is to be effected, unless you yourself were present at the time,” said Wood, glancing suspiciously at the speaker.
“I had no hand in the affair,” replied Jackson, bluntly; “but I know those who had; and could bring forward evidence, if you require it.”
“The best evidence would be afforded by an accomplice of the assassin,” rejoined Thames, who was greatly offended by the insinuation as to his parentage.
“Perhaps you could point out such a party, Mr. Jackson?” said Wood, significantly.
“I could,” replied Thames.
“Then you need no further information from me,” rejoined Jackson, sternly.
“Stay!” cried Wood, “this is a most perplexing business — if you really are privy to the affair ——”
“We’ll talk of it to-morrow, Sir,” returned Jackson, cutting him short. “In the mean time, with your permission, I’ll just make a few minutes of our conversation.”
“As many as you please,” replied Wood, walking towards the chimney-piece, and taking down a constable’s, staff, which hung upon a nail.
Jackson, mean time, produced a pocket-book; and, after deliberately sharpening the point of a pencil, began to write on a blank leaf. While he was thus occupied, Thames, prompted by an unaccountable feeling of curiosity, took up the penknife which the other had just used, and examined the haft. What he there noticed occasioned a marked change in his demeanour. He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened.
“There,” cried Jackson, closing the book and rising, “that’ll do. To-morrow at twelve I’ll be with you, Mr. Wood. Make up your mind as to the terms, and I’ll engage to find the man.”
“Hold!” exclaimed the carpenter, in an authoritative voice: “we can’t part thus. Thames, look the door.” (An order which was promptly obeyed.) “Now, Sir, I must insist upon a full explanation of your mysterious hints, or, as I am headborough of the district, I shall at once take you into custody.”
Jackson treated this menace with a loud laugh of derision.
“What ho!” he cried slapping Smith, who had fallen asleep with the brandy-bottle in his grasp, upon the shoulder. “It is time!”
“For what?” grumbled the latter, rubbing his eyes.
“For the caption!” replied Jackson, coolly drawing a brace of pistols from his pockets.
“Ready!” answered Smith, shaking himself, and producing a similar pair of weapons.
“In Heaven’s name! what’s all this?” cried Wood.
“Be still, and you’ll receive no injury,” returned Jackson. “We’re merely about to discharge our duty by apprehending a rebel. Captain Kneebone! we must trouble you to accompany us.”
“I’ve no intention of stirring,” replied the woollen-draper, who was thus unceremoniously disturbed: “and I beg you’ll sit down, Mr. Jackson.”
“Come, Sir!” thundered the latter, “no trifling! Perhaps,” he added, opening a warrant, “you’ll obey this mandate?”
“A warrant!” ejaculated Kneebone, starting to his feet.
“Ay, Sir, from the Secretary of State, for your arrest! You’re charged with high-treason.”
“By those who’ve conspired with me?”
“No! by those who’ve entrapped you! You’ve long eluded our vigilance; but we’ve caught you at last!”
“Damnation!” exclaimed the woollen-draper; “that I should be the dupe of such a miserable artifice!”
“It’s no use lamenting now, Captain! You ought rather to be obliged to us for allowing you to pay this visit. We could have secured you when you left the Mint. But we wished to ascertain whether Mrs. Wood’s charms equalled your description.”
“Wretches!” screamed the lady; “don’t dare to breathe your vile insinuations against me! Oh! Mr. Kneebone, are these your French noblemen?”
“Don’t upbraid me!” rejoined the woollen-draper.
“Bring him along, Joe!” said Jackson, in a whisper to his comrade.
Smith obeyed. But he had scarcely advanced a step, when he was felled to the ground by a blow from the powerful arm of Kneebone, who, instantly possessing himself of a pistol, levelled it at Jackson’s head.
“Begone! or I fire!” he cried.
“Mr. Wood,” returned Jackson, with the utmost composure; “you’re a headborough,