r stir from the spot; a caution
which the housekeeper, whose curiosity far outweighed her fears,
received in very good part.

In the interim, Jack advanced to the woollen-draper, and regarding him
sternly, thus addressed him:

"You have violated the laws of hospitality, Mr. Kneebone, I came hither
as your guest. You have betrayed me."

"What faith is to be kept with a felon?" replied the woollen-draper,
disdainfully.

"He who breaks faith with his benefactor may well justify himself thus,"
answered Jack. "I have not trusted you. Others who have done, have found
you false."

"I don't understand you," replied Kneebone, in some confusion.

"You soon shall," rejoined Sheppard. "Where are the packets committed to
your charge by Sir Rowland Trenchard?"

"The packets!" exclaimed Kneebone, in alarm.

"It is useless to deny it," replied Jack. "You were watched to-night by
Blueskin. You met Sir Rowland at the house of a Romisch priest, Father
Spencer. Two packets were committed to your charge, which you undertook
to deliver,--one to another priest, Sir Rowland's chaplain, at
Manchester, the other to Mr. Wood. Produce them!"

"Never!" replied Kneebone.

"Then, by Heaven! you are a dead man!" replied Jack, cocking a pistol,
and pointing it deliberately at his head. "I give you one minute for
reflection. After that time nothing shall save you."

There was a brief, breathless pause. Even Blueskin looked on with
anxiety.

"It is past," said Jack, placing his finger on the trigger.

"Hold!" cried Kneebone, flinging down the packets; "they are nothing to
me."

"But they are everything to me," cried Jack, stooping to pick them up.
"These packets will establish Thames Darrell's birth, win him his
inheritance, and procure him the hand of Winifred Wood."

"Don't be too sure of that," rejoined Kneebone, snatching up the staff,
and aiming a blow at his head, which was fortunately warded off by Mrs.
Maggot, who promptly interposed her cudgel.

"Defend yourself!" cried Jack, drawing his sword.

"Leave his punishment to me, Jack," said Mrs. Maggot. "I've the
Bridewell account to settle."

"Be it so," replied Jack, putting up his blade. "I've a good deal to do.
Show him no quarter, Poll. He deserves none."

"And shall find none," replied the Amazon. "Now, Mr. Kneebone," she
added, drawing up her magnificent figure to its full height, and making
the heavy cudgel whistle through the air, "look to yourself."

"Stand off, P