“Because—­” stammered the boy.

“Speak out—­don’t be alarmed,” said Wood, in a kind and encouraging tone.  “If you’ve done wrong, confess it, and I’ll forgive you!”

“I don’t deserve to be forgiven!” returned Jack, bursting into tears; “for I’m afraid I’ve done very wrong.  Do you know this, Sir?” he added, taking a key from his pocket.

“Where did you find it!” asked Wood.

“It was given me by a man who was drinking t’other night with Blueskin at the Lion! and who, though he slouched his hat over his eyes, and muffled his chin in a handkerchief, must have been Jonathan Wild.”

“Where did he get it?” inquired Wood, in surprise.

“That I can’t say.  But he promised to give me a couple of guineas if I’d ascertain whether it fitted your locks.”

“Zounds!” exclaimed Wood; “it’s my old master-key.  This key,” he added, taking it from the boy, “was purloined from me by your father, Jack.  What he intended to do with it is of little consequence now.  But before he suffered at Tyburn, he charged your mother to restore it.  She lost it in the Mint.  Jonathan Wild must have stolen it from her.”

“He must,” exclaimed Jack, hastily; “but only let me have it till to-morrow, and if I don’t entrap him in a snare from which, with all his cunning, he shall find it difficult to escape, my name’s not Jack Sheppard.”

“I see through your design, Jack,” returned the carpenter, gravely; “but I don’t like under-hand work.  Even when you’ve a knave to deal with, let your actions be plain, and above-board.  That’s my maxim; and it’s the maxim of every honest man.  It would be a great matter, I must own, to bring Jonathan Wild to justice.  But I can’t consent to the course you would pursue—­at least, not till I’ve given it due consideration.  In regard to yourself, you’ve had a very narrow escape.  Wild’s intention, doubtless, was to use you as far as he found necessary, and then to sell you.  Let this be a caution to you in future—­with whom, and about what you deal.  We’re told, that ’Whoso is partner with a thief hateth his own soul.’  Avoid taverns and bad company, and you may yet do well.  You promise to become a first-rate workman.  But you want one quality, without which all others are valueless.  You want industry—­you want steadiness.  Idleness is the key of beggary, Jack.  If you don’t conquer this disgraceful propensity in time, you’ll soon come to want; and then nothing can save you.  Be warned by your father’s fate.  As you brew so must you drink.  I’ve engaged to watch over you as a son, and I will do so as far as I’m able; but if you neglect my advice, what chance have I of benefitting you?  On one point I’ve made up my mind—­you shall either obey me, or leave me.  Please yourself.  Here are your indentures, if you choose to seek another master.”

“I will obey you, master,—­indeed I will!” implored Jack, seriously alarmed at the carpenter’s calm displeasure.