“No more!” cried Griffin, incredulously; “I should have thought you must have made double that sum at least.”

“Not a farthing more, I assure you,” rejoined Ireton, pettishly; “we’re all on the square here.  I took the money myself, and ought to know.”

“Oh! certainly,” answered Griffin; “certainly.”

“I offered Jack five guineas as his share,” continued Ireton; “but he wouldn’t take it himself, and gave it to the poor debtors and felons, who are now drinking it out in the cellar on the Common Side.”

“Jack’s a noble fellow,” exclaimed the head-jailer of Clerkenwell Prison, raising his glass; “and, though he played me a scurvy trick, I’ll drink to his speedy deliverance.”

“At Tyburn, eh, Mr. Shotbolt?” rejoined the executioner.  “I’ll pledge you in that toast with all my heart.”

“Well, for my part,” observed Mrs. Spurling, “I hope he may never see Tyburn.  And, if I’d my own way with the Secretary of State, he never should.  It’s a thousand pities to hang so pretty a fellow.  There haven’t been so many ladies in the Lodge since the days of Claude Du Val, the gentleman highwayman; and they all declare it’ll break their hearts if he’s scragged.”

“Bah!” ejaculated Marvel, gruffly.

“You think our sex has no feeling, I suppose, Sir,” cried Mrs. Spurling, indignantly; “but I can tell you we have.  And, what’s more, I tell you, if Captain Sheppard is hanged, you need never hope to call me Mrs. Marvel.”

“’Zounds!” cried the executioner, in astonishment.  “Do you know what you are talking about, Mrs. Spurling?  Why, if Captain Sheppard should get off, it ’ud be fifty guineas out of my way.  There’s the grand laced coat he wore at his trial, which I intend for my wedding-dress.”

“Don’t mention such a thing, Sir,” interrupted the tapstress.  “I couldn’t bear to see you in it.  Your speaking of the trial brings the whole scene to my mind.  Ah!  I shall never forget the figure Jack cut on that occasion.  What a buzz of admiration ran round the court as he appeared!  And, how handsome and composed he looked!  Everybody wondered that such a stripling could commit such desperate robberies.  His firmness never deserted him till his old master, Mr. Wood, was examined.  Then he did give way a bit.  And when Mr. Wood’s daughter,—­to whom, I’ve heard tell, he was attached years ago,—­was brought up, his courage forsook him altogether, and he trembled, and could scarcely stand.  Poor young lady! She trembled too, and was unable to give her evidence.  When sentence was passed there wasn’t a dry eye in the court.”

“Yes, there was one,” observed Ireton.

“I guess who you mean,” rejoined Shotbolt.  “Mr. Wild’s.”

“Right,” answered Ireton.  “It’s strange the antipathy he bears to Sheppard.  I was standing near Jack at that awful moment, and beheld the look Wild fixed on him.  It was like the grin of a fiend, and made my flesh creep on my bones.  When the prisoner was removed from the dock, we met Jonathan as we passed through the yard.  He stopped us, and, addressing Jack in a taunting tone, said, ’Well, I’ve been as good as my word!’—­’True,’ replied Sheppard; ‘and I’ll be as good as mine!’ And so they parted.”