"Don't question me, but leave me," replied the widow wildly; "you had
better."

"Leave you!" echoed the ruffian, with a contemptuous laugh; "--not just
yet."

"I am not unprotected," rejoined the poor woman; "there's some one at
the window. Help! help!"

But her cries were unheeded. And Blueskin, who, for a moment, had looked
round distrustfully, concluding it was a feint, now laughed louder than
ever.

"It won't do, widow," said he, drawing near her, while she shrank from
his approach, "so you may spare your breath. Come, come, be reasonable,
and listen to me. Your kid has already brought me good luck, and may
bring me still more if his edication's attended to. This purse," he
added, chinking it in the air, "and this ring, were given me for him
just now by the lady, who made a false step on leaving your house. If
I'd been in the way, instead of Jonathan Wild, that accident wouldn't
have happened."

As he said this, a slight noise was heard without.

"What's that?" ejaculated the ruffian, glancing uneasily towards the
window. "Who's there?--Pshaw! it's only the wind."

"It's Jonathan Wild," returned the widow, endeavouring to alarm him. "I
told you I was not unprotected."