"Well, what sort of journey have you had, Quilt?" asked the man as he hastened to assist Sir Rowland to dismount.
"Oh! we've lost no time, as you perceive," replied Jack. "Is the governor within?"
"Yes; you'll find him in the audience-chamber. He has got Blueskin with him."
"Ah! indeed! what's he doing here?" inquired Jack.
"Come to buy off Jack Sheppard, I suppose," replied the fellow. "But it won't do. Mr. Wild has made up his mind, and, when that's the case, all the persuasion on earth won't turn him. Jack will be tried to-morrow; and, as sure as my name's Obadiah Lemon he'll take up his quarters at the King's-Head," pointing to Newgate, "over the way."
"Well, we shall see," replied Jack. "Look to the horses, Obadiah. This way, Sir Rowland."
As familiar as Quilt Arnold himself with every part of Wild's mysterious abode, as well as with the ways of its inmates, Jack, without a moment's hesitation, took up a lamp which was burning in the hall, and led his companion up the great stone stairs. Arrived at the audience-chamber, he set down the light upon a stand, threw open the door, and announced in a loud voice, but with the perfect intonation of the person he represented,—"Sir Rowland Trenchard."
Jonathan, who was engaged in conversation with Blueskin, instantly arose, and bowed with cringing ceremoniousness to the knight. The latter haughtily returned his salutation, and flung himself, as if exhausted, into a chair.
"You've arrived sooner than I expected, Sir Rowland," observed the thief-taker. "Lost no time on the road—eh!—I didn't expect you till to-morrow at the earliest. Excuse me an instant while I dismiss this person.—You've your answer, Blueskin," he added, pushing that individual, who seemed unwilling to depart, towards the door; "it's useless to urge the matter further. Jack is registered in the Black Book."
"One word before I go," urged Blueskin.