On leaving Mr. Kneebone’s house, the young man hastened to a hotel in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden, where, having procured a horse, he shaped his course towards the west end of the town.  Urging his steed along Oxford Road,—­as that great approach to the metropolis was then termed,—­he soon passed Marylebone Lane, beyond which, with the exception of a few scattered houses, the country was completely open on the right, and laid out in pleasant fields and gardens; nor did he draw in the rein until he arrived at Tyburn-gate, where, before he turned off upon the Edgeware Road, he halted for a moment, to glance at the place of execution.  This “fatal retreat for the unfortunate brave” was marked by a low wooden railing, within which stood the triple tree.  Opposite the gallows was an open gallery, or scaffolding, like the stand at a racecourse, which, on state occasions, was crowded with spectators.  Without the inclosure were reared several lofty gibbets, with their ghastly burthens.  Altogether, it was a hideous and revolting sight.  Influenced, probably, by what he had heard from Mr. Kneebone, respecting the lawless career of Jack Sheppard, and struck with the probable fate that awaited him, the young man, as he contemplated this scene, fell into a gloomy reverie.  While he was thus musing, two horsemen rode past him; and, proceeding to a little distance, stopped likewise.  One of them was a stout square-built man, with a singularly swarthy complexion, and harsh forbidding features.  He was well mounted, as was his companion; and had pistols in his holsters, and a hanger at his girdle.  The other individual, who was a little in advance, was concealed from the stranger’s view.  Presently, however, a sudden movement occurred, and disclosed his features, which were those of a young man of nearly his own age.  The dress of this person was excessively showy, and consisted of a scarlet riding-habit, lined and faced with blue, and bedizened with broad gold lace, a green silk-knit waistcoat, embroidered with silver, and decorated with a deep fringe, together with a hat tricked out in the same gaudy style.  His figure was slight, but well-built; and, in stature he did not exceed five feet four.  His complexion was pale; and there was something sinister in the expression of his large black eyes.  His head was small and bullet-shaped, and he did not wear a wig, but had his sleek black hair cut off closely round his temples.  A mutual recognition took place at the same instant between the stranger and this individual.  Both started.  The latter seemed inclined to advance and address the former; but suddenly changing his mind, he shouted to his companion in tones familiar to the stranger’s ear; and, striking spurs into his steed, dashed off at full speed along the Edgeware Road.  Impelled by a feeling, into which we shall not pause to inquire, the stranger started after them; but they were better mounted, and soon distanced him.  Remarking that they struck off at a turning on the left, he took the