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Jack Sheppard A Romance

Creator: Ainsworth, William Harrison, 1805-1882
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"Who are you!" demanded the fugitive, sternly. "A friend," replied Jonathan, uncocking the pistol, and placing it in his pocket. "How do I know you are a friend?" asked Darrell. "What should I do here alone if I were an enemy? But, come, don't let us waste time in bandying words, when we might employ it so much more profitably. Your life, and that of your child, are in my power. What will you give me to save you from your pursuers?" "_Can_ you do so?" asked the other, doubtfully. "I can, and will. Now, the reward?" "I have but an ill-furnished purse. But if I escape, my gratitude--" "Pshaw!" interrupted Jonathan, scornfully. "Your gratitude will vanish with your danger. Pay fools with promises. I must have something in hand." "You shall have all I have about me," replied Darrell. "Well--well," grumbled Jonathan, "I suppose I must be content. An
L.P.M. : the end of the Great War

L. P. M. The End of the Great War By J. Stewart Barney 1915 With a Frontispiece by Clarence F. Underwood
ill-lined purse is a poor recompense for the risk I have run. However, come along. I needn't tell you to tread carefully. You know the danger of this breakneck road as well as I do. The light would betray us." So saying, he closed the lantern. "Harkye, Sir," rejoined Darrell; "one word before I move. I know not who you are; and, as I cannot discern your face, I may be doing you an injustice. But there is something in your voice that makes me distrust you. If you attempt to play the traitor, you will do so at the hazard of your life." "I have already hazarded my life in this attempt to save you," returned Jonathan boldly, and with apparent frankness; "this ought to be sufficient answer to your doubts. Your pursuers are below. What was to hinder me, if I had been so inclined, from directing them to your retreat?" "Enough," replied Darrell. "Lead on!" Followed by Darrell, Jonathan retraced his dangerous path. As he approached the gable of Mrs. Sheppard's house, loud yells and vociferations reached his ears; and, looking downwards, he perceived a great stir amid the mob. The cause of this uproar was soon manifest. Blueskin and the Minters were dragging Wood to the pump. The unfortunate carpenter struggled violently, but ineffectually. His hat was placed upon one pole, his wig on another. His shouts for help were answered by