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Updated: June 3, 2025
But, when the sound of the carriage-wheels died away, and he felt that she was actually gone, his resolution failed him, and he rang the bell violently. "My horses, Charcam," he said, as a servant appeared. The man lingered. "'Sdeath! why am I not obeyed?" exclaimed the knight, angrily. "I wish to overtake Lady Trafford. Use despatch!"
"Ah!" exclaimed Sir Rowland, glancing significantly at Charcam, who was a confidant in his Jacobite schemes; "is it the messenger from Orchard-Windham, from Sir William?" "No, Sir Rowland." "From Mr. Corbet Kynaston, then? Sir John Packington's courier was here yesterday." "No, Sir Rowland." "Perhaps he is from Lord Derwentwater, or Mr. Forster? News is expected from Northumberland."
"'Tis he, by Heaven!" cried Jonathan; "this is lucky. Sir Rowland," he added, in a deep whisper, "do you agree to my terms?" "I do," answered Trenchard, in the same tone. "Enough!" rejoined Wild; "he shall not return." "Have you acquainted him with Lady Trafford's departure?" said the knight, addressing Charcam, with as much composure as he could assume.
"Well, I will see him," replied the knight, after a moment's pause; "he may be from the Earl of Mar. But let the horses be in readiness. I shall ride to St. Alban's to-night." So saying, he threw himself into a chair. And Charcam, fearful of another charge in his master's present uncertain mood, disappeared.
They're apt to be surly to strangers, but it soon wears off. The gentleman with the red beard will relieve you of your prisoner. The other must call a coach as quickly as he can." "For whom, Sir?" inquired Charcam. "For me his master, Mr. Jonathan Wild." "Are you Mr. Jonathan Wild?" asked the attendant, in great trepidation. "I am, Charcoal. But don't let my name frighten you.
But I can tell you who'll have the pleasure of hanging your father's son; and that's a person not a hundred miles distant from you at this moment ha! ha!" As he said this, the door was opened, and Charcam entered, accompanied by a dwarfish, shabby-looking man, in a brown serge frock, with coarse Jewish features, and a long red beard.
"I can't exactly say, Sir Rowland. The gentleman didn't communicate his business to me. But I'm sure it's important." Charcam said this, not because he knew anything about the matter; but, having received a couple of guineas to deliver the message, he, naturally enough, estimated its importance by the amount of the gratuity.
"Take the prisoners below, Nab," said Jonathan, addressing the dwarfish Jew; "I'll join you in an instant." The bearded miscreant seized Jack by the waist, and Thames by the nape of the neck, and marched off, like the ogre in the fairy tale, with a boy under each arm, while Charcam brought upt the rear. Mother and Son.
At the same time, Charcam, who seemed perfectly distracted by the recent occurrences, dragged in Thames, leaving Jack Sheppard outside in the custody of the dwarfish Jew. "Hell's curses!" muttered Jonathan between his teeth; "that fool will ruin all. Take him away," he added, striding up to Charcam. "Let him remain," interposed Trenchard.
They had scarcely been gone a moment, when a confused noise was heard without, and Charcam re-entered the room, with a countenance of the utmost bewilderment and alarm. "What's the matter with the man?" demanded Wild. "Her ladyship " faltered the attendant. "What of her?" cried the knight. "Is she returned!" "Y e s, Sir Rowland," stammered Charcam. "The devil!" ejaculated Jonathan.
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