“What shall we do, Poll?” hesitated Edgeworth Bess.
“Go in, to be sure, simpleton,” replied Mrs. Maggot, “and bring off all we can. I know where everything valuable is kept. Since Jack has left us, what does it matter whether he's pleased or not?”
At this moment, a whistle was heard.
“Coming!” cried Blueskin, who was still lingering with Rachel. “The Captain's in such a desperate hurry, that there's no time for love-making. Adieu! my charmer. You'll find those young ladies extremely agreeable acquaintances. Adieu!”
And, snatching a hasty kiss, he darted after Jack.
The chair, meanwhile, with its unhappy load, was transported at a brisk pace to Newgate. Arrived there, the porter thundered at the massive door of the Lodge, which was instantly opened—Shotbolt's note having been received just before. All the turnkeys were assembled. Ireton and Langley had returned from a second unsuccessful search; Marvel had come thither to bid good-night to Mrs. Spurling; Austin had never quitted his post. The tapstress was full of curiosity; but she appeared more easy than the others. Behind her stood Caliban, chuckling to himself, and grinning from ear to ear.
“Well, who'd have thought of Shotbolt beating us all in this way!” said Ireton. “I'm sorry for old Newgate that another jail should have it. It's infernally provoking.”
“Infernally provoking!” echoed Langley.
“Nobody has so much cause for complaint as me,” growled Austin. “I've lost my wager.”
“Twenty pounds,” rejoined Mrs. Spurling. “I witnessed the bet.”