"Here are your despatches," said Jonathan with a significant look, and giving him a sealed packet. "Open them when you get on board—not before, and act as they direct you."
"I ondershtand," replied the skipper, putting his finger to his nose; "it shall be done."
"Sir Rowland," said Jonathan, turning to the knight, "will it please you to remain here till I return, or will you accompany us?"
"I will go with you," answered Trenchard, who, by this time, had regained his composure, and with it all his relentlessness of purpose.
"Come, then," said Wild, marching towards the door, "we've no time to lose."
Quitting the night-cellar, the trio soon arrived at the riverside. Quilt Arnold was stationed at the stair-head, near which the boat containing the captive boy was moored. A few words passed between him and the thief-taker as the latter came up; after which, all the party—with the exception of Quilt, who was left on shore—embarked within the wherry, which was pushed from the strand and rowed swiftly along the stream—for the tide was in its favour—by a couple of watermen. Though scarcely two hours past midnight, it was perfectly light. The moon had arisen, and everything could be as plainly distinguished as during the day. A thin mist lay on the river, giving the few craft moving about in it a ghostly look. As they approached London Bridge, the thief-taker whispered Van Galgebrok, who acted as steersman, to make for a particular arch—near the Surrey shore. The skipper obeyed, and in another moment, they swept through the narrow lock. While the watermen were contending with the eddies occasioned by the fall below the bridge, Jonathan observed a perceptible shudder run through Trenchard's frame.
"You remember that starling, Sir Rowland," he said maliciously, "and what occurred on it, twelve years ago?"
"Too well," answered the knight, frowning. "Ah! what is that?" he cried, pointing to a dark object floating near them amid the boiling waves, and which presented a frightful resemblance to a human face.
"We'll see," returned the thief-taker. And, stretching out his hand, he lifted the dark object from the flood.
It proved to be a human head, though with scarcely a vestige of the features remaining. Here and there, patches of flesh adhered to the bones, and the dank dripping hair hanging about what had once been the face, gave it a ghastly appearance.