drily. "A secret is too valuable a
commodity to be thrown away. But I said I wouldn't drive a hard bargain
with you, and I won't. We are alone, Sir Rowland," he added, snuffing
the candles, glancing cautiously around, and lowering his tone, "and
what you confide to me shall never transpire,--at least to your
disadvantage."

"I am at a loss to understand you Sir,", said Trenchard.

"I'll make myself intelligible before I've done," rejoined Wild. "I need
not remind you, Sir Rowland, that I am aware you are deeply implicated
in the Jacobite plot which is now known to be hatching."

"Ha!" ejaculated the other.

"Of course, therefore," pursued Jonathan, "you are acquainted with all
the leaders of the proposed insurrection,--nay, must be in
correspondence with them."

"What right have you to suppose this, Sir?" demanded Trenchard, sternly.

"Have a moment's patience, Sir Rowland," returned Wild; "and you shall
hear. If you will furnish me with a list of these rebels, and with
proofs of their treason, I will not only insure your safety, but will
acquaint you with the real name and rank of your sister Aliva's husband,
as well as with some particulars which will never otherwise reach your
ears, concerning your lost sister, Constance."

"My sister Constance!" echoed the knight; "what of her?"

"You agree to my proposal, then?" said Jonathan.

"Do you take me for as great a villain as yourself, Sir?" said the
knight, rising.

"I took you for one who wouldn't hesitate to avail himself of any
advantage chance might throw in his way," returned the thief-taker,
coldly. "I find I was in error. No matter. A time _may_ come,--and that
ere long,--when you will be glad to purchase my secrets, and your own
safety, at a dearer price than the heads of your companions."

"Are you ready?" said Trenchard, striding towards the door.

"I am," replied Jonathan, following him, "and so," he added in an
undertone, "are your captors."

A moment afterwards, they quitted the house.

CHAPTER XVII.

The Night-Cellar.

After a few minutes' rapid walking, during which neither party uttered a
word, Jonathan Wild and his companion had passed Saint Paul's, dived
down a thoroughfare on the right, and reached Thames Street.

At the period of this history, the main streets of the metropolis were
but imperfectly lighted, while the less-frequented avenues were left in
total obscurity; but, even at the present time, the maze of courts and