the ablest counsel on the circuit would
be retained in their behalf.

I had no longer a doubt that it was my duty to know something further of
this suddenly-generous Flint Jackson, though how to set about it was a
matter of considerable difficulty. There was no legal pretence for a
search-warrant, and I doubted the prudence of proceeding upon my own
responsibility with so astute an old fox as Jackson was represented to
be; for, supposing him to be a confederate with the burglars, he had by
this time in all probability sent the stolen property away--to London in
all likelihood; and should I find nothing, the consequences of
ransacking his house merely because he had provided a former servant
with legal assistance would be serious. Under these circumstances I
wrote to headquarters for instructions, and by return of post received
orders to prosecute the inquiry thoroughly, but cautiously, and to
consider time as nothing so long as there appeared a chance of fixing
Jackson with the guilt of receiving the plunder. Another suspicious
circumstance that I have omitted to notice in its place was that the
Guilford solicitor tendered bail for the prisoners to any reasonable
amount, and named Enoch Jackson as one of the securities. Bail was,
however, refused.

There was no need for over-hurrying the business, as the prisoners were
committed to the Surrey Spring Assizes, and it was now the season of the
hop-harvest--a delightful and hilarious period about Farnham when the
weather is fine and the yield abundant. I, however, lost no time in
making diligent and minute inquiry as to the character and habits of
Jackson, and the result was a full conviction that nothing but the fear
of being denounced as an accomplice could have induced such a miserly,
iron-hearted rogue to put himself to charges in defence of the
imprisoned burglars.

One afternoon, whilst pondering the matter, and at the same time
enjoying the prettiest and cheerfulest of rural sights, that of
hop-picking, the apothecary at whose house I was lodging--we will call
him Mr. Morgan; he _was_ a Welshmann--tapped me suddenly on the
shoulder, and looking sharply round, I perceived he had something he
deemed of importance to communicate.

"What is it?" I said quickly.

"The oddest thing in the world. There's Flint Jackson, his deaf old
woman, and the young people lodging with him, all drinking and boozing
away at yon alehouse."

"Show them to me, if you please."

A fe