“Why, Jack Sheppard, the notorious house-breaker,—­him as has robbed half Lunnun, to be sure.  You must know, Sir, when he was a lad, the day after he broke into his master’s house in Wych Street, he picked a gentleman’s pocket in our church, during sarvice time,—­that he did, the heathen.  The gentleman catched him i’ th’ fact, and we shut him up for safety i’ that pris’n.  But,” said the fellow, with a laugh, “he soon contrived to make his way out on it, though.  Ever since he’s become so famous, the folks about here ha’ christened it Jack Sheppard’s cage.  His mother used to live i’ this village, just down yonder; but when her son took to bad ways, she went distracted,—­and now she’s i’ Bedlam, I’ve heerd.”

“I tell e’e what, John Dump,” said the other fellow, who had hitherto preserved silence, “I don’t know whether you talkin’ o’ Jack Sheppard has put him into my head or not; but I once had him pointed out to me, and if that were him as I seed then, he’s just now ridden past us, and put up at the Six Bells.”

“The deuce he has!” cried Dump.  “If you were sure o’ that we might seize him, and get the reward for his apprehension.”

“That ’ud be no such easy matter,” replied the countryman.  “Jack’s a desperate fellow, and is always well armed; besides, he has a comrade with him.  But I’ll tell e’e what we might do——­”

The young man heard no more.  Taking the direction pointed out, he rode off.  As he passed the Six Bells, he noticed the steeds of the two horsemen at the door; and glancing into the house, perceived the younger of the two in the passage.  The latter no sooner beheld him than he dashed hastily into an adjoining room.  After debating with himself whether he should further seek an interview, which, though, now in his power, was so sedulously shunned by the other party, he decided in the negative; and contenting himself with writing upon a slip of paper the hasty words,—­“You are known by the villagers,—­be upon your guard,”—­he gave it to the ostler, with instructions to deliver it instantly to the owner of the horse he pointed out, and pursued his course.

Passing the old rectory, and still older church, with its reverend screen of trees, and slowly ascending a hill side, from whence he obtained enchanting peeps of the spire and college of Harrow, he reached the cluster of well-built houses which constitute the village of Neasdon.  From this spot a road, more resembling the drive through a park than a public thoroughfare, led him gradually to the brow of Dollis Hill.  It was a serene and charming evening, and twilight was gently stealing over the face of the country.  Bordered by fine timber, the road occasionally offered glimpses of a lovely valley, until a wider opening gave a full view of a delightful and varied prospect.  On the left lay the heights of Hampstead, studded with villas, while farther off a hazy cloud marked the position of the metropolis.  The stranger concluded he could not be far from his destination, and a turn in the road showed him the house.