“The link of the chain next the staple is sawn through,” said Ireton, stooping to examine Blueskin’s fetters.

“Search him and iron him afresh;” commanded Jonathan.  “But first let us secure Sheppard.  We’ll then remove them both to the Middle Stone Hold, where a watch shall be kept over them night and day till they’re taken to Tyburn.  As they’re so fond of each other’s society they shan’t part company even on that occasion, but shall swing from the same tree.”

“You’ll never live to see that day,” cried Blueskin, fixing a menacing look upon him.

“What weight are these irons?” asked Jonathan, coolly addressing one of the partners.

“More than three hundred weight, Sir,” replied the man.  “They’re the heaviest set we have,—­and were forged expressly for Captain Sheppard.”

“They’re not half heavy enough,” replied Wild.  “Let him be handcuffed, and doubly ironed on both legs; and when we get him into the Stone Ward, he shall not only be chained down to the ground, but shall have two additional fetters running through the main links, fastened on each side of him.  We’ll see whether he’ll get rid of his new bonds?” he added with a brutal laugh, which was echoed by the bystanders.

“Mark me,” said Jack, sternly; “I have twice broken out of this prison in spite of all your precautions.  And were you to load me with thrice the weight of iron you have ordered you should not prevent my escaping a third time.”

“That’s right, Captain,” cried Blueskin.  “We’ll give them the slip yet, and hang that butcherly thief-taker upon his own gibbet.”

“Be silent dog,” cried Jonathan.  And with his clenched hand he struck him a violent blow in the face.

For the first time, perhaps, in his life, he repented of his brutality.  The blow was scarcely dealt, when, with a bound like that of a tiger, Blueskin sprang upon him.  The chain, which had been partially cut through, snapped near the staple.  Before any assistance could be rendered by the jailers, who stood astounded, Blueskin had got Wild in his clutches.  His strength has been described as prodigious; but now, heightened by his desire for vengeance, it was irresistible.  Jonathan, though a very powerful man, was like an infant in his gripe.  Catching hold of his chin, he bent back the neck, while with his left hand he pulled out a clasp knife, which he opened with his teeth, and grasping Wild’s head with his arm, notwithstanding his resistance, cut deeply into his throat.  The folds of a thick muslin neckcloth in some degree protected him, but the gash was desperate.  Blueskin drew the knife across his throat a second time, widening and deepening the wound; and wrenching back the head to get it into a more favourable position, would infallibly have severed it from the trunk, if the officers, who by this time had recovered from their terror, had not thrown themselves upon him, and withheld him.

“Now’s your time,” cried Blueskin, struggling desperately with his assailants and inflicting severe cuts with his knife.  “Fly, Captain—­fly!”