his attention to another quarter.

Meanwhile, the excitement of the chase had in some degree subsided. The
crowd dispersed in different directions, and most fortunately a heavy
shower coming on, put them altogether to flight. Jonathan, however,
still lingered. He seemed wholly insensible to the rain, though it
presently descended in torrents, and continued his search as ardently as
before.

After occupying himself thus for the best part of an hour, he thought
Jack must have given him the slip. Still, his suspicions were so strong,
that he ordered Mendez to remain on guard near the spot all night, and,
by the promise of a large reward induced two other men to keep him
company.

As he took his departure, he whispered to the Jew: "Take him dead or
alive; but if we fail now, and you heard him aright in Seacoal Lane, we
are sure of him at his mother's funeral on Sunday."

CHAPTER XXV.

How Jack Sheppard got rid of his Irons.

About an hour after this, Jack ventured to emerge from his place of
concealment. It was still raining heavily, and profoundly dark. Drenched
to the skin,--in fact, he had been lying in a bed of muddy water,--and
chilled to the very bone, he felt so stiff, that he could scarcely move.

Listening attentively, he fancied he heard the breathing of some one
near him, and moved cautiously in the opposite direction. In spite of
his care, he came in contact with a man, who, endeavouring to grasp him,
cried, in the voice of Mendez, "Who goes dere? Shpeak! or I fire!"

No answer being returned, the Jew instantly discharged his pistol, and
though the shot did no damage, the flash discovered Sheppard. But as the
next moment all was profound darkness, Jack easily managed to break away
from them.

Without an idea where he was going, Jack pursued his way through the
fields; and, as he proceeded, the numbness of his limbs in some degree
wore off, and his confidence returned. He had need of all the
inexhaustible energy of his character to support him through his
toilsome walk over the wet grass, or along the slippery ploughed land.
At last, he got into a lane, but had not proceeded far when he was again
alarmed by the sound of a horse's tread.

Once more breaking through the hedge he took to the fields. He was now
almost driven to despair. Wet as he was, he felt if he lay down in the
grass, he should perish with cold; while, if he sought a night's lodging
in any asylum, his dress, stained with blood