The Essential Works of William Harrison Ainsworth - William Harrison Ainsworth

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he would not suffer Blueskin to accompany him, so he commanded him to keep watch over the sleepers — strictly enjoining him, however, to do them no injury. Again having recourse to the centre-bit — for Winifred’s door was locked — Jack had nearly cut out a panel, when a sudden outcry was raised in the carpenter’s chamber. The next moment, a struggle was heard, and Blueskin appeared at the door, followed by Mrs. Wood.

      Jack instandly extinguished the light, and called to his comrade to come after him.

      But Blueskin found it impossible to make off — at least with the spoil — Mrs. Wood having laid hold of the canvass-bag.

      “Give back the things!” cried the, lady. “Help! — help, Mr. Wood!”

      “Leave go!” thundered Blueskin —“leave go — you’d better!”— and he held the sack as firmly as he could with one hand, while with the other he searched for his knife.

      “No, I won’t leave go!” screamed Mrs. Wood. “Fire! — murder — thieves! — I’ve got one of ’em!”

      “Come along,” cried Jack.

      “I can’t,” answered Blueskin. “This she-devil has got hold of the sack. Leave go, I tell you!” and he forced open the knife with his teeth.

      “Help! — murder! — thieves!” screamed Mrs. Wood; —“Owen — Owen! — Thames, help!”

      “Coming!” cried Mr. Wood, leaping from the bed. “Where are you?”

      “Here,” replied Mrs. Wood. “Help — I’ll hold him!”

      “Leave her,” cried Jack, darting down stairs, amid a furious ringing of bells — “the house is alarmed — follow me!”

      “Curses light on you!” cried Blueskin, savagely; “since you won’t be advised, take your fate.”

      And seizing her by the hair, he pulled back her head, and drew the knife with all his force across her throat. There was a dreadful stifled groan, and she fell heavily upon the landing.

      The screams of the unfortunate woman had aroused Thames from his slumbers. Snatching-up his pistols, he rushed to the door, but to his horror found it fastened. He heard the struggle on the landing, the fall of the heavy body, the groan — and excited almost to frenzy by his fears, he succeeded in forcing open the door. By this time, several of the terrified domestics appeared with lights. A terrible spectacle was presented to the young man’s gaze:— the floor deluged with blood — the mangled and lifeless body of Mrs. Wood — Winifred fainted in the arms of a female attendant — and Wood standing beside them almost in a state of distraction. Thus, in a few minutes, had this happy family been plunged into the depths of misery. At this juncture, a cry was raised by a servant from below, that the robbers were flying through the garden. Darting to a window looking in that direction, Thames threw it up, and discharged both his pistols, but without effect. In another minute, the tramp of horses’ feet told that the perpetrators of the outrage had effected their escape.

      CHAPTER 3.

       JACK SHEPPARD’S QUARREL WITH JONATHAN WILD.

       Table of Contents

      Scarcely an hour after the horrible occurrence just related, as Jonathan Wild was seated in the audience-chamber of his residence at the Old Bailey, occupied, like Peachum, (for whose portrait he sat,) with his account-books and registers, he was interrupted by the sudden entrance of Quilt Arnold, who announced Jack Sheppard and Blueskin.

      “Ah!” cried Wild, laying down his pen and looking up with a smile of satisfaction. “I was just thinking of you Jack. What news. Have you done the trick at Dollis Hill? — brought off the swag — eh?”

      “No,” answered Jack, flinging himself sullenly into a chair, “I’ve not.”

      “Why how’s this?” exclaimed Jonathan. “Jack Sheppard failed! I’d not believe it, if any one but himself told me so.”

      “I’v not failed,” returned Jack, angrily; “but we’ve done too much.”

      “I’m no reader of riddles,” said Jonathan. “Speak plainly.”

      “Let this speak for me,” said Sheppard, tossing a heavy bag of money towards him. “You can generally understand that language. There’s more than I undertook to bring. It has been purchased by blood!”

      “What! have you cut old Wood’s throat?” asked Wild, with great unconcern, as he took up the bag.

      “If I had, you’d not have seen me here,” replied Jack, sullenly. “The blood that has been spilt is that of his wife.”

      “It was her own fault,” observed Blueskin, moodily. “She wouldn’t let me go. I did it in self-defence.”

      “I care not why you did it,” said Jack, sternly. “We work together no more.”

      “Come, come, Captain,” remonstrated Blueskin. “I thought you’d have got rid of your ill-humour by this time. You know as well as I do that it was accident.”

      “Accident or not,” rejoined Sheppard; “you’re no longer pall of mine.”

      “And so this is my reward for having made you the tip-top cracksman you are,” muttered Blueskin; —“to be turned off at a moment’s notice, because I silenced a noisy woman. It’s too hard. Think better of it.”

      “My mind’s made up,” rejoined Jack, coldly — “we part to-night.”

      “I’ll not go,” answered the other. “I love you like a son, and will follow you like a dog. You’d not know what to do without me, and shan’t drive me off.”

      “Well!” remarked Jonathan, who had paid little attention to the latter part of the conversation: “this is an awkward business certainly: but we must do the best we can in it. You must keep out of the way till it’s blown over. I can accommodate you below.”

      “I don’t require it,” returned Sheppard. “I’m tired of the life I’m leading. I shall quit it and go abroad.”

      “I’ll go with you,” said Blueskin.

      “Before either of you go, you will ask my permission,” said Jonathan, coolly.

      “How!” exclaimed Sheppard. “Do you mean to say you will interfere —”

      “I mean to say this,” interrupted Wild, with contemptuous calmness, “that I’ll neither allow you to leave England nor the profession you’ve engaged in. I wouldn’t allow you to be honest even if you could be so — which I doubt. You are my slave — and such you shall continue.’”

      “Slave?” echoed Jack.

      “Dare to disobey,” continued Jonathan: “neglect my orders, and I will hang you.”

      Sheppard started to his feet.

      “Hear me,” he cried, restraining himself with difficulty. “It is time you should know whom you have to deal with. Henceforth, I utterly throw off the yoke you have laid upon me. I will neither stir hand nor foot for you more. Attempt to molest me, and I split. You are more in my power than I am in yours. Jack Sheppard is a match for Jonathan Wild, any day.”

      “That he is,” added Blueskin, approvingly.

      Jonathan smiled contemptuously.

      “One motive alone shall induce me to go on with you,” said Jack.

      “What’s that?” asked Wild.

      “The youth whom you delivered to Van Galgebrok — Thames Darrell, is returned.”

      “Impossible!” cried Jonathan. “He was thrown overboard, and perished at sea.”

      “He

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