d behind him, looked very pale,
but neither trembled, nor exhibited any other symptom of alarm.

"Why didn't you come out when I called you, you young dog?" cried Quilt
in a savage tone.

"Because I knew what you wanted me for!" answered Thames firmly.

"Oh! you did, did you?" said the janizary. "And what do you suppose we
mean to do with you, eh?"

"You mean to kill me," replied Thames, "by my cruel uncle's command. Ah!
there he stands!" he exclaimed as his eye fell for the first time upon
Sir Rowland. "Where is my mother?" he added, regarding the knight with a
searching glance.

"Your mother is dead," interposed Wild, scowling.

"Dead!" echoed the boy. "Oh no--no! You say this to terrify me--to try
me. But I will not believe you. Inhuman as he is, he would not kill her.
Tell me, Sir," he added, advancing towards the knight, "tell me has this
man spoken falsely?--Tell me my mother is alive, and do what you please
with me."

"Tell him so, and have done with him, Sir Rowland," observed Jonathan
coldly.

"Tell me the truth, I implore you," cried Thames. "Is she alive?"

"She is not," replied Trenchard, overcome by conflicting emotions, and
unable to endure the boy's agonized look.

"Are you answered?" said Jonathan, with a grin worthy of a demon.

"My mother!--my poor mother!" ejaculated Thames, falling on his knees,
and bursting into tears. "Shall I never see that sweet face
again,--never feel the pressure of those kind hands more--nor listen to
that gentle voice! Ah! yes, we shall meet again in Heaven, where I shall
speedily join you. Now then," he added more calmly, "I am ready to die.
The only mercy you can show me is to kill me."

"Then we won't even show you that mercy," retorted the thief-taker
brutally. "So get up, and leave off whimpering. Your time isn't come
yet."

"Mr. Wild," said Trenchard, "I shall proceed no further in this
business. Set the boy free."

"If I disobey you, Sir Rowland," replied the thief-taker, "you'll thank
me for it hereafter. Gag him," he added, pushing Thames rudely toward
Quilt Arnold, "and convey him to the boat."

"A word," cried the boy, as the janizary was preparing to obey his
master's orders. "What has become of Jack Sheppard?"

"Devil knows!" answered Quilt; "but I believe he's in the hands of
Blueskin, so there's no doubt he'll soon be on the high-road to Tyburn."

"Poor Jack!" sighed Thames. "You needn't gag me," he added, "I'll not
cry out."

"We won't