"Spare him! spare him!" cried Mrs. Sheppard, falling on her knees.
"Get up, mother," cried Jack; "do not kneel to him. I wouldn't accept my life from him. I've foiled him hitherto, and will foil him yet. And, come what will, I'll balk him of the satisfaction of hanging me."
Jonathan raised his bludgeon, but controlled himself by a powerful effort.
"Fool!" he cried, "do you think I wouldn't have secured you before this if I hadn't some motive for my forbearance?"
"And that motive is fear," replied Jack contemptuously.
"Fear!" echoed Wild, in a terrible tone,—"fear! Repeat that word again, and nothing shall save you."
"Don't anger him, my dear son," implored the poor widow, with a look of anguish at Jack. "Perhaps he means well."
"Mad as you are, you're the more sensible of the two, I must say," rejoined Jonathan.
"Spare him!" cried Mrs, Sheppard, who fancied she had made some impression on the obdurate breast of the thief-taker,—"spare him! and I will forgive you, will thank you, bless you. Spare him! spare him!"
"On one condition I will spare him," returned Wild; "on one condition only."