Exclamations of wonder burst from all. Mrs. Spurling bit her lips to conceal her mirth. Caliban absolutely crowed with delight.
“Hear the letter,” said Ireton, breaking the seal. “'This is the way in which I will serve all who attempt to apprehend me.' It is signed JACK SHEPPARD.”
“And, so Jack Sheppard has sent back Shotbolt in this pickle,” said Langley.
“So it appears,” replied Marvel. “Untie his arms, and take off that handkerchief. The poor fellow's half smothered.”
“I guess what share you've had in this,” whispered Austin to Mrs. Spurling.
“Never mind,” replied the tapstress. “You've won your wager.”
Half an hour after this occurrence, when it had been sufficiently laughed at and discussed; when the wager had been settled, and the chairman dismissed with the remaining three guineas, which Shotbolt was compelled to pay; Ireton arose, and signified his intention of stepping across the street to inform Mr. Wild of the circumstance.
“As it's getting late, and the porter may be gone to bed,” he observed; “I'll take the pass-key, and let myself in. Mr. Wild is sure to be up. He never retires to rest till daybreak—if at all. Come with me, Langley, and bring the lantern.”