“Shoot him! shoot him!  Put him out of hish mishery,” cried the Jew.

“What’s the use of wasting a shot?” rejoined Jonathan, savagely.  “He can’t get out.”

After making several ineffectual attempts to keep himself above water, Sir Rowland sunk, and his groans, which had become gradually fainter and fainter, were heard no more.

“All’s over,” muttered Jonathan.

“Shall ve go back to de other room?” asked the Jew.  “I shall breathe more freely dere.  Oh!  Christ! de door’s shut!  It musht have schwung to during de schuffle!”

“Shut!” exclaimed Wild.  “Then we’re imprisoned.  The spring can’t be opened on this side.”

“Dere’s de other door!” cried Mendez, in alarm.

“It only leads to the fencing crib,” replied Wild.  “There’s no outlet that way.”

“Can’t ve call for asshistanche?”

“And who’ll find us, if we do?” rejoined Wild, fiercely.  “But they will find the evidences of slaughter in the other room,—­the table upset,—­the bloody cloth,—­the dead man’s sword,—­the money,—­and my memorandum, which I forgot to remove.  Hell’s curses! that after all my precautions I should be thus entrapped.  It’s all your fault, you shaking coward! and, but that I feel sure you’ll swing for your carelessness, I’d throw you into the well, too.”

CHAPTER XIII.

The Supper at Mr. Kneebone’s.

Persuaded that Jack Sheppard would keep his appointment with Mr. Kneebone, and feeling certain of capturing him if he did so, Shotbolt, on quitting Newgate, hurried to the New Prison to prepare for the enterprise.  After debating with himself for some time whether he should employ an assistant, or make the attempt alone, his love of gain overcame his fears, and he decided upon the latter plan.  Accordingly, having armed himself with various weapons, including a stout oaken staff then ordinarily borne by the watch, and put a coil of rope and a gag in his pocket, to be ready in case of need, he set out, about ten o’clock, on the expedition.

Before proceeding to Wych Street, he called at the Lodge to see how matters were going on, and found Mrs. Spurling and Austin at their evening meal, with Caliban in attendance.

“Well, Mr. Shotbolt,” cried the turnkey, “I’ve good news for you.  Mr. Wild has doubled his offer, and the governor has likewise proclaimed a reward of one hundred guineas for Jack’s apprehension.”

“You don’t say so!” exclaimed Shotbolt.

“Read that,” rejoined Austin, pointing to the placard.  “I ought to tell you that Mr. Wild’s reward is conditional upon Jack’s being taken before to-morrow morning.  So I fear there’s little chance of any one getting it.”

“You think so, eh?” chuckled Shotbolt, who was eagerly perusing the reward, and congratulating himself upon his caution; “you think so—­ha! ha!  Well, don’t go to bed, that’s all.”