"Anything
else?"

"Your waistcoat."

"'Zounds! Captain, I shall get my death of cold. I was in hopes you'd be
content with my hat and wig."

"I shall require them as well," rejoined Sheppard; "and your boots."

"My boots! Fire and fury! They won't fit you; they are too large.
Besides, how am I to ride home without them?"

"Don't distress yourself," returned Jack, "you shall walk. Now," he
added, as his commands were reluctantly obeyed, "help me on with them."

Quilt knelt down, as if he meant to comply; but, watching his
opportunity, he made a sudden grasp at Sheppard's leg, with the
intention of overthrowing him.

But Jack was too nimble for him. Striking out his foot, he knocked half
a dozen teeth down the janizary's throat; and, seconding the kick with a
blow on the head from the butt-end of the pistol, stretched him,
senseless and bleeding on the ground.

"Like master like man," observed Jack as he rolled the inanimate body to
the side of the road. "From Jonathan Wild's confidential servant what
could be expected but treachery?"

With this, he proceeded to dress himself in Quilt Arnold's clothes,
pulled the wig over his face and eyes so as completely to conceal his
features, slouched the hat over his brows, drew the huge boots above his
knees, and muffled himself up in the best way he could. On searching the
coat, he found, amongst other matters, a mask, a key, and a pocket-book.
The latter appeared to contain several papers, which Jack carefully put
by, in the hope that they might turn out of importance in a scheme of
vengeance which he meditated against the thief-taker. He then mounted
the jaded hack, which had long since regained its legs, and was quietly
browsing the grass at the road-side, and, striking spurs into its side,
rode off. He had not proceeded far when he encountered Sir Rowland, who,
having missed his attendant, had returned to look after him.

"What has delayed you?" demanded the knight impatiently.

"My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection--for he
was a capital mimic,--the tones of Quilt Arnold. "It was some time
before I could get him to move."

"I fancied I heard voices," rejoined Sir Rowland.

"So did I," answered Jack; "we had better move on. This is a noted place
for highwaymen."

"I thought you told me that the rascal who has so long been the terror
of the town--Jack Sheppard--was in custody."

"So he is," returned Jack; "but there's no saying how l