“Mr. Wild,” said Trenchard, “I shall proceed no further in this business.  Set the boy free.”

“If I disobey you, Sir Rowland,” replied the thief-taker, “you’ll thank me for it hereafter.  Gag him,” he added, pushing Thames rudely toward Quilt Arnold, “and convey him to the boat.”

“A word,” cried the boy, as the janizary was preparing to obey his master’s orders.  “What has become of Jack Sheppard?”

“Devil knows!” answered Quilt; “but I believe he’s in the hands of Blueskin, so there’s no doubt he’ll soon be on the high-road to Tyburn.”

“Poor Jack!” sighed Thames.  “You needn’t gag me,” he added, “I’ll not cry out.”

“We won’t trust you, my youngster,” answered the janizary.  And, thrusting a piece of iron into his mouth, he forced him out of the room.

Sir Rowland witnessed these proceedings like one stupified.  He neither attempted to prevent his nephew’s departure, nor to follow him.

Jonathan kept his keen eye fixed upon him, as he addressed himself for a moment to the Hollander.

“Is the case of watches on board?” he asked in an under tone.

“Ja,” replied the skipper.

“And the rings?”

“Ja.”

“That’s well.  You must dispose of the goldsmith’s note I gave you yesterday, as soon as you arrive at Rotterdam.  It’ll be advertised to-morrow.”

“De duivel!” exclaimed Van Galgebrok, “Very well.  It shall be done as you direct.  But about dat jonker,” he continued, lowering his voice; “have you anything to add consarnin’ him?  It’s almosht a pity to put him onder de water.”

“Is the sloop ready to sail?” asked Wild, without noticing the skipper’s remark.

“Ja,” answered Van; “at a minut’s nodish.”

“Here are your despatches,” said Jonathan with a significant look, and giving him a sealed packet.  “Open them when you get on board—­not before, and act as they direct you.”

“I ondershtand,” replied the skipper, putting his finger to his nose; “it shall be done.”

“Sir Rowland,” said Jonathan, turning to the knight, “will it please you to remain here till I return, or will you accompany us?”

“I will go with you,” answered Trenchard, who, by this time, had regained his composure, and with it all his relentlessness of purpose.

“Come, then,” said Wild, marching towards the door, “we’ve no time to lose.”

Quitting the night-cellar, the trio soon arrived at the riverside.  Quilt Arnold was stationed at the stair-head, near which the boat containing the captive boy was moored.  A few words passed between him and the thief-taker as the latter came up; after which, all the party—­with the exception of Quilt, who was left on shore—­embarked within the wherry, which was pushed from the strand and rowed swiftly along the stream—­for the tide was in its favour—­by a couple of watermen.  Though scarcely two hours past midnight, it was perfectly light.  The moon had arisen, and