“No,” interposed Wood, furiously, “I shall never be satisfied till I see you hanged on the highest gibbet at Tyburn.”

“A time may come when you will be gratified, Mr. Wood,” replied Jack, calmly.

“May come!—­it will come!—­it shall come!” cried the carpenter, shaking his hand menacingly at him.  “I have some difficulty in preventing myself from becoming your executioner.  Oh! that I should have nursed such a viper!”

“Hear me, Sir,” said Jack.

“No, I won’t hear you, murderer,” rejoined Wood.

“I am no murderer,” replied Sheppard.  “I had no thought of injuring your wife, and would have died rather than commit so foul a crime.”

“Think not to delude me, audacious wretch,” cried the carpenter.  “Even if you are not a principal, you are an accessory.  If you had not brought your companion here, it would not have happened.  But you shall swing, rascal,—­you shall swing.”

“My conscience acquits me of all share in the offence,” replied Jack, humbly.  “But the past is irremediable, and I did not come hither to exculpate myself, I came to save your life,” he added, turning to Thames.

“I was not aware it was in danger,” rejoined Darrell.

“Then you ought to be thankful to me for the warning.  You are in danger.”

“From some of your associates?”

“From your uncle, from my uncle,—­Sir Rowland Trenchard.”

“What means this idle boasting, villain?” said Thames. “Your uncle, Sir Rowland?”

“It is no idle boasting,” replied the other.  “You are cousin to the housebreaker, Jack Sheppard.”

“If it were so, he would have great reason to be proud of the relationship, truly,” observed Wood, shrugging his shoulders.

“It is easy to make an assertion like this,” said Thames, contemptuously.

“And equally easy to prove it,” replied Jack, giving him the paper he had abstracted from Wild.  “Read that.”

Thames hastily cast his eyes over it, and transferred it, with a look of incredulity, to Wood.

“Gracious Heavens! this is more wonderful than all the rest,” cried the carpenter, rubbing his eyes.  “Thames, this is no forgery.”

“You believe it, father?”

“From the bottom of my heart.  I always thought Mrs. Sheppard superior to her station.”

“So did I,” said Winifred.  “Let me look at the paper.”

“Poor soul!—­poor soul!” groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision.  “Well, I’m glad she’s spared this.  Oh!  Jack, Jack, you’ve much to answer for!”

“I have, indeed,” replied Sheppard, in a tone of contrition.

“If this document is correct,” continued Wood, “and I am persuaded it is so,—­you are as unfortunate as wicked.  See what your misconduct has deprived you of—­see what you might have been.  This is retribution.”

“I feel it,” replied Jack, in a tone of agony, “and I feel it more on my poor mother’s account than my own.”