The stranger said nothing, but hastily brushed away a tear. Perceiving he was about to take leave, Kneebone ventured to ask whom he had had the honour of addressing.
Before the question could be answered, a side-door was opened, and a very handsome woman of Amazonian proportions presented herself, and marched familiarly up to Mr. Kneebone. She was extremely showily dressed, and her large hooped petticoat gave additional effect to her lofty stature. As soon as she noticed the stranger, she honoured him with an extremely impudent stare, and scarcely endeavoured to disguise the admiration with which his good looks impressed her.
“Don’t you perceive, my dear Mrs. Maggot, that I’m engaged,” said Kneebone, a little disconcerted.
“Who’ve you got with you?” demanded the Amazon, boldly.
“The gentleman is a stranger to me, Poll,” replied the woollen-draper, with increased embarrassment. “I don’t know his name.” And he looked at the moment as if he had lost all desire to know it.
“Well, he’s a pretty fellow at all events,” observed Mrs. Maggot, eyeing him from head to heel with evident satisfaction; —“a devilish pretty fellow!”
“Upon my word, Poll,” said Kneebone, becoming very red, “you might have a little more delicacy than to tell him so before my face.”
“What!” exclaimed Mrs. Maggot, drawing up her fine figure to its full height; “because I condescend to live with you, am I never to look at another man — especially at one so much to my taste as this? Don’t think it!”
“You had better retire, Madam,” said the woollen-draper, sharply, “if you can’t conduct yourself with more propriety.”
“Order those who choose to obey you,” rejoined the lady scornfully. “Though you lorded it over that fond fool, Mrs. Wood, you shan’t lord it over me, I can promise you. That for you!” And she snapped her fingers in his face.
“Zounds!” cried Kneebone, furiously. “Go to your own room, woman, directly, or I’ll make you!”
“Make me!” echoed Mrs. Maggot, bursting into a loud contemptuous laugh. “Try!”
Enraged at the assurance of his mistress, the woollen-draper endeavoured to carry his threat into execution, but all his efforts to remove her were unavailing. At length, after he had given up the point from sheer exhaustion, the Amazon seized him by the throat, and pushed him backwards with such force that he rolled over the counter.
“There!” she cried, laughing, “that’ll teach you to lay hands upon me again. You should remember, before you try your strength against mine, that when I rescued you from the watch, and you induced me to come and live with you, I beat off four men, any of whom was a match for you — ha! ha!”
“My dear Poll!” said Kneebone, picking himself up, “I entreat you to moderate yourself.”
“Entreat a fiddlestick!” retorted Mrs. Maggot: “I’m tired of you, and will go back to my old lover, Jack Sheppard. He’s worth a dozen of you. Or, if this good-looking young fellow will only say the word, I’ll go with him.”
“You may go, and welcome, Madam!” rejoined Kneebone, spitefully. “But, I should think, after the specimen you’ve just given of your amiable disposition, no person would be likely to saddle himself with such an incumbrance.”
“What say you, Sir?” said the Amazon, with an engaging leer at the stranger. “You will find me tractable enough; and, with me by, your side you need fear neither constable nor watchman. I’ve delivered Jack Sheppard from many an assault. I can wield a quarterstaff as well as a prize-fighter, and have beaten Figg himself at the broadsword. Will you take me?”
However tempting Mrs. Maggot’s offer may appear, the young man thought fit to decline it, and, after a few words of well-merited compliment on her extraordinary prowess, and renewed thanks to Mr. Kneebone, he took his departure.
“Good bye!” cried Mrs. Maggot, kissing her hand to him. “I’ll find you out. And now,” she added, glancing contemptuously at the woollen-draper, “I’ll go to Jack Sheppard.”
“You shall first go to Bridewell, you jade!” rejoined Kneebone. “Here, Tom,” he added, calling to a shop-boy, “run and fetch a constable.”
“He had better bring half-a-dozen,” said the Amazon, taking up a cloth-yard wand, and quietly seating herself; “one won’t do.”
On leaving Mr. Kneebone’s house, the young man hastened to a hotel in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden, where, having procured a horse, he shaped his course towards the west end of the town. Urging his steed along Oxford Road — as that great approach to the metropolis was then termed — he soon passed Marylebone Lane, beyond which, with the exception of a few scattered houses, the country was completely open on the right, and laid out in pleasant fields and gardens; nor did he draw in the rein until he arrived at Tyburn-gate, where, before he turned off upon the Edgeware Road, he halted for a moment, to glance at the place of execution. This “fatal retreat for the unfortunate brave” was marked by a low wooden railing, within which stood the triple tree. Opposite the gallows was an open gallery, or scaffolding, like the stand at a racecourse, which, on state occasions, was crowded with spectators. Without the inclosure were reared several lofty gibbets, with their ghastly burthens. Altogether, it was a hideous and revolting sight. Influenced, probably, by what he had heard from Mr. Kneebone, respecting the lawless career of Jack Sheppard, and struck with the probable fate that awaited him, the young man, as he contemplated this scene, fell into a gloomy reverie. While he was thus musing, two horsemen rode past him; and, proceeding to a little distance, stopped likewise. One of them was a stout square-built man, with a singularly swarthy complexion, and harsh forbidding features. He was well mounted, as was his companion; and had pistols in his holsters, and a hanger at his girdle. The other individual, who was a little in advance, was concealed from the stranger’s view. Presently, however, a sudden movement occurred, and disclosed his features, which were those of a young man of nearly his own age. The dress of this person was excessively showy, and consisted of a scarlet riding-habit, lined and faced with blue, and bedizened with broad gold lace, a green silk-knit waistcoat, embroidered with silver, and decorated with a deep fringe, together with a hat tricked out in the same gaudy style. His figure was slight, but well-built; and, in stature he did not exceed five feet four. His complexion was pale; and there was something sinister in the expression of his large black eyes. His head was small and bullet-shaped, and he did not wear a wig, but had his sleek black hair cut off closely round his temples. A mutual recognition took place at the same instant between the stranger and this individual. Both started. The latter seemed inclined to advance and address the former; but suddenly changing his mind, he shouted to his companion in tones familiar to the stranger’s ear; and, striking spurs into his steed, dashed off at full speed along the Edgeware Road. Impelled by a feeling, into which we shall not pause to inquire, the stranger started after them; but they were better mounted, and soon distanced him. Remarking that they struck off at a turning on the left, he took the same road, and soon found himself on Paddington-Green. A row of magnificent, and even then venerable, elms threw their broad arms over this pleasant spot. From a man, who was standing beneath the shade of one these noble trees, information was obtained that the horsemen had ridden along the Harrow Road. With a faint view of overtaking them the pursuer urged his steed to a quicker pace. Arrived at Westbourne-Green — then nothing more than a common covered with gorse and furzebushes, and boasting only a couple of cottages and an alehouse — he perceived through the hedges the objects of his search slowly ascending the gentle hill that rises from Kensall-Green.
By the time he had reached the summit of this hill, he had lost all trace of them; and the ardour of the chase having in some measure subsided, he began to reproach himself for his folly, in having wandered — as he conceived — so far