Thames glanced at the despatch, and, after a moment's reflection, inquired, “In what way is the attempt upon my life to be made?”
“That I couldn't ascertain,” replied Jack; “but I advise you to be upon your guard. For aught I know, they may be in the neighbourhood at this moment.”
“Here!” ejaculated Wood, with a look of alarm. “Oh lord! I hope not.”
“This I do know,” continued Jack,—“Jonathan Wild superintends the attack.”
“Jonathan Wild!” repeated the carpenter, trembling. “Then it's all over with us. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. We may be all murdered in this unprotected place, and nobody be the wiser.”
“There's some one in the garden at this moment,” cried Jack; “I saw a face at the window.”
“Where—where?” cried Thames.
“Don't stir,” replied Jack. “I will at once convince you of the truth of my assertions, and ascertain whether the enemy really is at hand.”
So saying, he advanced towards the window, threw open the sash, and called out in the voice of Thames Darrell, “Who's there?”
He was answered by a shot from a pistol. The ball passed over his head, and lodged in the ceiling.