"She is not," replied Trenchard, overcome by conflicting emotions, and unable to endure the boy's agonized look.
"Are you answered?" said Jonathan, with a grin worthy of a demon.
"My mother!—my poor mother!" ejaculated Thames, falling on his knees, and bursting into tears. "Shall I never see that sweet face again,—never feel the pressure of those kind hands more—nor listen to that gentle voice! Ah! yes, we shall meet again in Heaven, where I shall speedily join you. Now then," he added more calmly, "I am ready to die. The only mercy you can show me is to kill me."
"Then we won't even show you that mercy," retorted the thief-taker brutally. "So get up, and leave off whimpering. Your time isn't come yet."
"Mr. Wild," said Trenchard, "I shall proceed no further in this business. Set the boy free."
"If I disobey you, Sir Rowland," replied the thief-taker, "you'll thank me for it hereafter. Gag him," he added, pushing Thames rudely toward Quilt Arnold, "and convey him to the boat."
"A word," cried the boy, as the janizary was preparing to obey his master's orders. "What has become of Jack Sheppard?"
"Devil knows!" answered Quilt; "but I believe he's in the hands of Blueskin, so there's no doubt he'll soon be on the high-road to Tyburn."
"Poor Jack!" sighed Thames. "You needn't gag me," he added, "I'll not cry out."
"We won't trust you, my youngster," answered the janizary. And, thrusting a piece of iron into his mouth, he forced him out of the room.