Spaight at the turnpike, and as he showed his
ticket, he talked with the man. Of course, the news was come. The
turnpike-man knew it by this time; and off scampered Toole, and the
major followed close at his heels, at double-quick. He made a dismal
shake or two of his head, and lifted his hand as they drew near. Toole's
heart misgave him.

'Well, how is it?--what's the news?' he panted.

'A true bill,' answered Spaight, with a solemn stare; 'a true bill,
Sir.'

Toole uttered an oath of consternation, and taking the words out of
Spaight's mouth, told the news to the major.

'Do you tell me so?' exclaimed the major. 'Bedad, Sir, I'm uncommon
sorry.'

'A bad business, Sir,' observed Spaight.

'No worse,' said Toole. 'If they convict him on this, you know--in case
Sturk dies, and die he will--they'll indict and convict him on the more
_serious_ charge,' and he winked gloomily, 'the evidence is all one.'

'That poor little Sally Nutter!' ejaculated the major. 'She's to be
pitied, the crature!'

''Tis mighty slender evidence to take a man's life on,' said Toole, with
some disgust. 'Be the law, Sir, the whole thing gives me a complete
turn. Are you to dine with Colonel Strafford to-day?'

'I am, Sir,' said the major; 'an' it goes again' the colonel's grain to
have a party at all just now, with the respect he has for the family up
there,' and he nodded his head, pensively, toward the Elms. 'But he
asked Lowe ten days ago, and Mr. Dangerfield, and two or three more; and
you know he could not put them off on that ground--there being no
relationship, you see--and, 'pon my oath, Sir, I'd rather not go myself,
just now.'

That evening, at five o'clock, Colonel Stafford's dinner party assembled
at the King's House. The colonel was a serene man, and hospitality--even
had he been in the dumps--demands her sacrifices. He, therefore, did the
honours as beseemed a genial and courteous old officer of the Royal
Irish Artillery, who, if his conversation was not very remarkable in
quality, and certainly not exorbitant in quantity, made up by listening
a great deal, and supplying no end of civility, and an affluence of very
pretty claret. Mr. Justice Lowe was there, and Mr. Dangerfield, and old
Colonel Bligh, of the Magazine, and honest Major O'Neill,
notwithstanding his low spirits. Perhaps they required keeping up; and
claret like Colonel Stafford's is consoling.

The talk turned, of course, a good deal on Charles Nutter; and M