ho had
fired on his own countrymen. And the thought had pursued me right into
Newgate--if she were dead; if I had taken her from that security, from
that peace, to end there.... And to end myself.

"Swing!" the turnkey said; "you'll swing right enough." He slapped the
great key on his flabby hand. "You can tell that by the signs. You,
being an Admiralty case, ought to have been in the Marshalsea. And
you're ordered solitary cell, and I'm tipped the straight wink against
your speaking a blessed word to a blessed soul. Why don't they let you
see an attorney? Why? Because they _mean_ you to swing."

I said, "Never mind that. Have you heard of a ship called the _Lion?_
Can you find out about her?"

He shook his head cunningly, and did not answer. If the _Lion_ had been
here, I must have heard. They couldn't have left me here.

I said, "For God's sake find out. Get me a shipping gazette."

He affected not to hear.

"There's money in plenty," I said.

He winked ponderously and began again. "Oh, you'll swing all right. A
man with nothing against him has a chance; with the rhino he has it,
even if he's guilty. But you'll _swing_. Charlie, who brought you back
just now, had a chat with the 'Torney-General's devil's clerk's clerk,
while old Nog o' Bow Street was trying to read their Spanish. He says
it's a Gov'nment matter. They wants to hang you bad, they do, so's to
go to the Jacky Spaniards and say, 'He were a nob, a nobby nob.' (So
you are, aren't you? One uncle an earl and t'other a dean, if so be what
they say's true.) 'He were a nobby nob and we swung 'im. Go you'n do
likewise.' They want a striking example t' keep the West India trade
quiet..." He wiped his forehead and moved my water jug of red earth on
the dirty deal table under the window, for all the world like a host in
front of a guest. "They means you to swing," he said. "They've silenced
the Thames Court reporters. Not a noospaper will publish a correct
report t'morrer. And you haven't see nobody, nor you won't, not if I can
help it."

He broke off and looked at me with an expression of candour.

"Mind you," he said, "I'm not uffish. To 'n ornery gentleman--of the
road or what you will--I'm not, if so be he's the necessary. I'd take a
letter like another. But for you, no--fear. Not that I've my knife into
you. What I can do to make you comfor'ble I will do, _both_ now an'
hereafter. But when I gets the wink, I looks after my skin. So'd any
man. You don'