rs, and again detailed his story, but with no better success
than heretofore. His statement was treated with derision. Having seen
him heavily ironed, and placed in the Condemned Hold, Jonathan recrossed
the street.

He found Abraham on guard as he had left him.

"Has any one been here?" he asked.

"No von," replied the Jew.

"That's well," replied Wild, entering the house, and fastening the door.
"And now to dispose of our dead. Why, Nab, you shake as if you'd got an
ague?" he added, turning to the Jew, whose teeth chattered audibly.

"I haven't quite recovered the fright I got in the Vell-Hole," replied
Abraham.

On returning to the audience-chamber, Jonathan found the inanimate body
of Thames Darrell lying where he had left it; but, on examining it, he
remarked that the pockets were turned inside out, and had evidently been
rifled. Startled by this circumstance, he looked around, and perceived
that the trap-door,--which has been mentioned as communicating with a
secret staircase,--was open. He, next, discovered that Blueskin was
gone; and, pursuing his scrutiny, found that he had carried off all the
banknotes, gold, and letters,--including, what Jonathan himself was not
aware of,--the two packets which he had abstracted from the person of
Thames. Uttering a terrible imprecation, Jonathan snatched up the link,
and hastily descended the stairs, leaving the Jew behind him. After a
careful search below, he could detect no trace of Blueskin. But, finding
the cellar-door open, concluded he had got out that way.

Returning to the audience-chamber in a by-no-means enviable state of
mind, he commanded the Jew to throw the body of Thames into the Well
Hole.

"You musht do dat shob yourself, Mishter Vild," rejoined Abraham,
shaking his head. "No prize shall indushe me to enter dat horrid plashe
again."

"Fool!" cried Wild, taking up the body, "what are you afraid of? After
all," he added, pausing, "he may be of more use to me alive than dead."

Adhering to this change of plan, he ordered Abraham to follow him, and,
descending the secret stairs once more, carried the wounded man into the
lower part of the premises. Unlocking several doors, he came to a dark
vault, that would have rivalled the gloomiest cell in Newgate, into
which he thrust Thames, and fastened the door.

"Go to the pump, Nab," he said, when this was done, "and fill a pail
with water. We must wash out those stains up stairs, and burn the cloth.
Bloo