Blueskin nodded, and left the room.  Jack affected to close the door, but left it slightly ajar.

“What did you say to him?” inquired Jonathan, suspiciously.

“I advised him not to trouble you farther about Jack Sheppard,” answered the supposed janizary.

“He seems infatuated about the lad,” observed Wild.  “I shall be obliged to hang him to keep him company.  And now, Sir Rowland,” he continued, turning to the knight, “to our own concerns.  It’s a long time since we met, eight years and more.  I hope you’ve enjoyed your health.  ’Slife! you are wonderfully altered.  I should scarcely have known you.”

The knight was indeed greatly changed.  Though not much passed the middle term of life, he seemed prematurely stricken with old age.  His frame was wasted, and slightly bent; his eyes were hollow, his complexion haggard, and his beard, which had remained unshorn during his hasty journey, was perfectly white.  His manner, however, was as stern and haughty as ever, and his glances retained their accustomed fire.

“I did not come hither to consult you as to the state of my health, Sir,” he observed, displeased by Jonathan’s allusion to the alteration in his appearance.

“True,” replied Wild.  “You were no doubt surprised by the unlooked-for intelligence I sent you of your nephew’s return?”

“Was it unlooked-for on your part?” demanded the knight, distrustfully.

“On my soul, yes,” rejoined Jonathan.  “I should as soon have expected the bones of Tom Sheppard to reunite themselves and walk out of that case, as Thames Darrell to return.  The skipper, Van Galgebrok, affirmed to me,—­nay, gave me the additional testimony of two of his crew,—­that he was thrown overboard.  But it appears he was picked up by fishermen, and carried to France, where he has remained ever since, and where it would have been well for him if he had remained altogether.”

“Have you seen him?” asked Trenchard.

“I have,” replied Wild; “and nothing but the evidence of my senses would have made me believe he was living, after the positive assurance I received to the contrary.  He is at present with Mr. Wood,—­the person whom you may remember adopted him,—­at Dollis Hill, near Willesden; and it’s a singular but fortunate circumstance, so far as we are concerned, that Mrs. Wood chanced to be murdered by Blueskin, the fellow who just left the room, on the very night of his return, as it has thrown the house into such confusion, and so distracted them, that he has had no time as yet for hostile movements.”

“And what course do you propose to pursue in reference to him?” asked Sir Rowland.

“My plan is a very simple one,” rejoined the thief-taker smiling bitterly.  “I would treat him as you treated his father, Sir Rowland.”

“Murder him!” cried Trenchard shuddering.

“Ay, murder him, if you like the term,” returned Wild.  “I should call it putting him out of the way.  But no matter how you phrase it, the end is the same.”