t?" inquired
Terence. "If so, it won't pay. You're Mister Wild's pris'ner, and worse
luck to it!"

"I don't ask you to liberate me," urged Thames; "but will you convey a
message for me?"

"Where to, honey?"

"To Mr. Wood's, the carpenter in Wych Street. He lives near the Black
Lion."

"The Black Lion!" echoed Terence. "I know the house well; by the same
token that it's a flash crib. Och! many a mug o' bubb have I drained wi'
the landlord, Joe Hind. And so Misther Wudd lives near the Black Lion,
eh?"

"He does," replied Thames. "Tell him that I--his adopted son, Thames
Darrell--am detained here by Jonathan Wild."

"Thames Ditton--is that your name?"

"No," replied the boy, impatiently; "Darrell--Thames Darrell."

"I'll not forget it. It's a mighty quare 'un, though. I never yet heard
of a Christians as was named after the Shannon or the Liffy; and the
Thames is no better than a dhurty puddle, compared wi' them two noble
strames. But then you're an adopted son, and that makes all the
difference. People do call their unlawful children strange names. Are
you quite shure you haven't another alyas, Masther Thames Ditton?"

"Darrell, I tell you. Will you go? You'll be paid handsomely for your
trouble."

"I don't mind the throuble," hesitated Terence, who was really a
good-hearted fellow at the bottom; "and I'd like to sarve you if I
could, for you look like a gentleman's son, and that goes a great way
wi' me. But if Misther Wild were to find out that I thwarted his
schames----"

"I'd not be in your skin for a trifle," interrupted Quilt, who having
secured Sheppard, and delivered him to Abraham, now approached them
unawares; "and it shan't be my fault if he don't hear of it."

"'Ouns!" ejaculated Terence, in alarm, "would you turn snitch on your
old pal, Quilt?"

"Ay, if he plays a-cross," returned Quilt. "Come along, my sly shaver.
With all your cunning, we're more than a match for you."

"But not for me," growled Terence, in an under tone.

"Remember!" cried Quilt, as he forced the captive along.

"Remember the devil!" retorted Terence, who had recovered his natural
audacity. "Do you think I'm afeard of a beggarly thief-taker and his
myrmidons? Not I. Master Thames Ditton, I'll do your biddin'; and you,
Misther Quilt Arnold, may do your worst, I defy you."

"Dog!" exclaimed Quilt, turning fiercely upon him, "do you threaten?"

But the watchman eluded his grasp, and, mingling with the crowd,
disappeare