ne
of the wall--considerably wide of the mark.

"Come, this way----!" screamed Mr. Landale from his window sill, "you
have another!"

But the preventive shook his head, and thrust his smoking barrel back
through his belt, with an air of philosophical resignation; and slowly
approaching the window, through which the fugitive could now be seen
steadily bowling down the seaward slope, observed in slow, fat tones:

"Give you a hand, sir?"

Rupert, thrusting his extended arm aside jumped down beside him as if
he would have sprung at his throat.

"Why are you so late?--why have you brought no one with you? I gave
you notice enough. You fool! You have let him slip through your
fingers, now, after all! Couldn't you even shoot straight? Such a mark
as he made against the sky--Pah! well may the sailors say, lubberly as
a land preventive----!"

"Why, there you are, Mr. Landale!" answered the man with
imperturbable, greasy good-humour. "The way you shoved that there
pistol into my hand was enough to put off anybody. But you country
magistrate gentlemen, as I have always said, you are the real sort to
make one do illegal actions with your flurry and your hurry over
everything. 'Shoot!' says you, and damme, sir, if I didn't shoot
straight off before I knew if I were on my head or on my heels. It's a
mercy I didn't hit the sweet young lady--it is indeed. And as for the
young gentleman, though to be sure he did show a clean pair of heels
at the sight of me, I had no proper time for i-dentification--no time
for i-den-ti-fi-cation, Mr. Landale, sir. So I say, sir, it's a mercy
I did not hit him either, now I can think of it. Ah, slow and sure,
that's my motter! I takes my man on his boat, in the very middle of
his laces and his brandy and his silk--I takes him, sir, in the very
act of illegality, red-handed, so to speak, and then, if he shows
fight, or if he runs away, then I shoots, sir, and then if I hits, why
it's a good job too--but none of this promiscuous work for Augustus
Hobson. Slow and sure, that's my motter."

The speaker who had been rolling a quid of tobacco in his mouth during
this exposition of policy, here spat emphatically upon the grass, and
catching Madeleine's abstracted eye, begged pardon for the liberty
with a gallant air.

"Aye, so slow, man, that you are pretty sure to fail," muttered Mr.
Landale.

"I knows my business, sir, meaning no offence," retorted Mr. Hobson
serenely. "When I has no orders I ac