"Jack!" exclaimed Thames. "Is it you?"
"It is," replied Sheppard, as he untied the cords. "I might return the question. Were it not for your voice, I don't think I should know you. You are greatly altered."
Captivity had, indeed, produced a striking alteration in Thames. He looked like the shadow of himself—thin, feeble, hollow-eyed—his beard unshorn—nothing could be more miserable.
"I have never been out of this horrible dungeon since we last met," he said; "though how long ago that is, I scarcely know. Night and day have been alike to me."
"Six weeks have elapsed since that fatal night," replied Jack. "During the whole of that time I have been a close prisoner in Newgate, whence I have only just escaped."
"Six weeks!" exclaimed Thames, in a melancholy tone. "It seems like six long months to me."
"I do not doubt it," returned Jack; "none but those who have experienced it can understand the miseries of imprisonment."
"Do not speak of it," rejoined Thames, with a look of horror. "Let us fly from this frightful place."
"I will conduct you to the outlet," replied Jack; "but I cannot leave it till I have ascertained whether my mother also is a prisoner here."
"I can answer that," replied Thames. "She is. The monster, Wild, when he visited my dungeon last night, told me, to add to my misery, that she occupied a cell near me."