“It is plain he has been destroyed by his perfidious accomplice,” rejoined Thames.  “Oh God! how fearfully my father is avenged!”

“True,” replied Jack, sternly; “but we have our uncle to avenge.  What’s this?” he added, stooping to pick up a piece of paper lying at his feet—­it was Jonathan’s memorandum.  “This is the explanation of the bloody deed.”

“Here’s a pocket-book full of notes, and a heavy bag of gold,” said Blueskin, examining the articles on the floor.

“The sum which incited the villain to the murder,” replied Jack.  “But he can’t be far off.  He must be gone to dispose of the body.  We shall have him on his return.”

“I’ll see where these footsteps lead to,” said Blueskin, holding the light to the floor.  “Here are some more papers, Captain.”

“Give them to me,” replied Jack.  “Ah!” he exclaimed, “a letter, beginning ’dearest Aliva,’—­that’s your mother’s name, Thames.”

“Let me see it,” cried Thames, snatching it from him.  “It is addressed to my mother,” he added, as his eye glanced rapidly over it, “and by my father.  At length, I shall ascertain my name.  Bring the light this way—­quick!  I cannot decipher the signature.”

Jack was about to comply with the request, when an unlooked-for interruption occurred.  Having traced the footsteps to the wall, and perceiving no outlet, Blueskin elevated the lamp, and discovered marks of bloody fingers on the boards.

“He must have gone this way,” muttered Blueskin.  “I’ve often heard of a secret door in this room, though I never saw it.  It must be somewhere hereabouts.  Ah!” he exclaimed, as his eye fell upon a small knob in the wall, “there’s the spring!”

He touched it, and the door flew open.

The next moment, he was felled to the ground by Jonathan Wild, who sprang into the room, followed by Abraham bearing the link.  A single glance served to show the thief-taker how matters stood.  From the slight sounds that had reached him in his place of confinement, he was aware that some persons had found their way to the scene of slaughter, and in a state of the most intense anxiety awaited the result of their investigation, prepared for the worst.  Hearing the spring touched, he dashed through on the instant, and struck down the person who presented himself, with his bludgeon.  On beholding the intruders, his fears changed to exultation, and he uttered a roar of satisfaction as he glared at them, which could only be likened to the cry of some savage denizen of the plains.

On his appearance, Jack levelled a pistol at his head.  But his hand was withheld by Thames.

“Don’t fire,” cried the latter.  “It is important not to slay him.  He shall expiate his offences on the gibbet.  You are my prisoner, murderer.”

“Your prisoner!” echoed Jonathan, derisively.  “You mistake,—­you are mine.  And so is your companion,—­the convict Sheppard.”