roper
authorities. I have calculated my chances, you perceive."

"You have forgotten that you are in my power," returned the knight,
sternly; "and that all your allies cannot save you from my resentment."

"I can at least, protect myself," replied Wild, with, provoking
calmness. "I am accounted a fair shot, as well as a tolerable swordsman,
and I will give proof of my skill in both lines, should occasion require
it. I have had a good many desperate engagements in my time, and have
generally come off victorious. I bear the marks of some of them about me
still," he continued, taking off his wig, and laying bare a bald skull,
covered with cicatrices and plates of silver. "This gash," he added,
pointing to one of the larger scars, "was a wipe from the hanger of Tom
Thurland, whom I apprehended for the murder of Mrs. Knap. This wedge of
silver," pointing to another, "which would mend a coffee-pot, serves to
stop up a breach made by Will Colthurst, who robbed Mr. Hearl on
Hounslow-Heath. I secured the dog after he had wounded me. This fracture
was the handiwork of Jack Parrot (otherwise called Jack the Grinder),
who broke into the palace of the Bishop of Norwich. Jack was a comical
scoundrel, and made a little too free with his grace's best burgundy, as
well as his grace's favourite housekeeper. The Bishop, however, to show
him the danger of meddling with the church, gave him a dance at Tyburn
for his pains. Not a scar but has its history. The only inconvenience I
feel from my shattered noddle is an incapacity to drink. But that's an
infirmity shared by a great many sounder heads than mine. The hardest
bout I ever had was with a woman--Sally Wells, who was afterwards lagged
for shoplifting. She attacked me with a carving-knife, and, when I had
disarmed her, the jade bit off a couple of fingers from my left hand.
Thus, you see, I've never hesitated and never _shall_ hesitate to expose
my life where anything is to be gained. My profession has hardened me."

And, with this, he coolly re-adjusted his peruke.

"What do you expect to gain from this interview, Mr. Wild!" demanded
Trenchard, as if he had formed a sudden resolution.

"Ah! now we come to business," returned Jonathan, rubbing his hands,
gleefully. "These are my terms, Sir Rowland," he added, taking a sheet
of paper from his pocket, and pushing it towards the knight.

Trenchard glanced at the document.

"A thousand pounds," he observed, gloomily, "is a heavy price