"I cannot--dare not injure him," rejoined Trenchard, with a haggard
look, and sinking, as if paralysed, into a chair.

Jonathan laughed scornfully.

"Leave him to me," he said. "He shan't trouble you further."

"No," replied Sir Rowland, who appeared completely prostrated. "I will
struggle no longer with destiny. Too much blood has been shed already."

"This comes of fine feelings!" muttered Jonathan, contemptuously. "Give
me your thorough-paced villain. But I shan't let him off thus. I'll try
a strong dose.--Am I to understand that you intend to plead guilty, Sir
Rowland?" he added. "If so, I may as well execute my warrant."

"Stand off, Sir!" exclaimed Trenchard, starting suddenly backwards.

"I knew that would bring him to," thought Wild.

"Where is the boy?" demanded Sir Rowland.

"At present under the care of his preserver--one Owen Wood, a carpenter,
by whom he was brought up."

"Wood!" exclaimed Trenchard,--"of Wych Street?"

"The same."

"A boy from his shop was here a short time ago. Could it be him you
mean?"

"No. That boy was the carpenter's apprentice, Jack Sheppard. I've just
left your nephew."

At this moment Charcam entered the room.

"Beg pardon, Sir Rowland," said the attendant, "but there's a boy from
Mr. Wood, with a message for Lady Trafford."

"From whom?" vociferated Trenchard.

"From Mr. Wood the carpenter."

"The same who was here just now?"

"No, Sir Rowland, a much finer boy."

"'Tis he, by Heaven!" cried Jonathan; "this is lucky. Sir Rowland," he
added, in a deep whisper, "do you agree to my terms?"

"I do," answered Trenchard, in the same tone.

"Enough!" rejoined Wild; "he shall not return."

"Have you acquainted him with Lady Trafford's departure?" said the
knight, addressing Charcam, with as much composure as he could assume.

"No, Sir Rowland," replied the attendant, "as you proposed to ride to
Saint Albans to-night, I thought you might choose to see him yourself.
Besides, there's something odd about the boy; for, though I questioned
him pretty closely concerning his business, he declined answering my
questions, and said he could only deliver his message to her ladyship. I
thought it better not to send him away till I'd mentioned the
circumstance to you."

"You did right," returned Trenchard.

"Where is he?" asked Jonathan.

"In the hall," replied Charcam.

"Alone?"

"Not exactly, Sir. There's another lad at the gate waiting for him--the
same who was