s secret entry; there she sat, and he dared not stir. And
they looked every where--except in the right place; to do the devil
justice, it was a capital hiding-corner that; rooms, closets, passages,
cellars, out-houses, gardens, lofts, tenements, and all the "general
words," in a voluminous conveyance, were searched and searched in vain;
more than one groom expected (hoped is a truer word) to find Mr.
Jennings hanging by a halter from the stable-lamp; more than one
exhilarated labourer, hastily summoned for the search, was sounding the
waters with a rake and rope, in no slight excitement at the thought of
fishing up a deceased bailiff.

It was a terrible time for the ensconced one: sometimes he thought of
coming out, and treating the affair as a bit of pleasantry: but then the
devil had taken off his shoes--as a Glascow captain deals with his cargo
of refractory Irishers; how could he explain that? his abominable old
aunt was shrewd, and he knew how clearly she would guess at the truth;
if he desired to make sure of losing every chance, he could come out
now, and reveal himself; but if he nourished still the hope of counting
out that crock of gold, he'll bide where he is, and trust to--to--to
fate. The wretch had "Providence" on his blistered tongue.

If, under the circumstances, any thing could be added to Simon's
gratification, such pleasing addition was afforded in overhearing, as
Lord Brougham did, the effect which his rumoured death produced on the
minds of those who best had known him. It so happened, Sarah was sick,
and did not join the universal hunt; accordingly, being the only
audience, divers ambassadors came to tell her constantly the same most
welcome news, that Jennings had not yet been found.

"Lawk, Sally," said a helper, "what a blessing it'll be, if that mean
old thief's dead; I'll go to town, if 'tis so, get a dozen Guy's-day
rockets, tie 'em round with crape, and spin 'em over the larches:
that'll be funeral fun won't it? and it'll sarve to tell the neighbours
of our luck in getting rid on him."

"I doan't like your thought, Tom," said another staider youth: "it's
ill-mirth playing leap-frog over tomb-stones, and poor bravery insulting
the dead. Besides, I'm thinking the bad man that's taken from us an't a
going up'ards, so it's no use lending him a light. I wish we may all lie
in a cooler grave than he does, and not have to go quite so deep
down'ard."

"Gee up for Lady-day!" exclaimed the emanci