y
have determined to attempt the Hall to-night. I have written this letter
to Sir Gilbert, and, if I can find any one to convey it, the scoundrels
will be taken and punished. If I cannot, I must contrive some means to
escape to the Hall; but they suspect me, and watch me so narrowly, that
it is almost impossible. What shall I do? There is somebody coming; it
is that fool, Peter Bargrove. Then all is right. I will make use of him.

_Enter Peter._

Your servant, fortunate sir!

_Peter._ Fortunate! why now ar'n't you an infamous hussy? Hav'n't you
taken my purse and my money, for your intelligence that I was changed in
my cradle,--and what has been the consequence?

_Nelly._ That everybody has been astonished.

_Peter._ I have been astonished, at all events. I have had so many
cudgellings that I must count them with my fingers. First, a huge one
from old Bargrove; secondly, a smart one from Captain Etheridge; and
thirdly, a severe one from Sir Gilbert. What is the value of your good
news if no one will believe it?

_Nelly._ Very true--but how could you expect they would?

_Peter._ Then what's the good of knowing it?

_Nelly._ You must know a fact before you attempt to prove it. You only
bought the knowledge of me, you never paid for the proof.

_Peter._ No; but I've paid for the knowledge. (_Rubbing his shoulders._)
But didn't you say that Mrs Bargrove would confess?

_Nelly._ I thought it likely--but, if she won't, we must make her.

_Peter._ How?

_Nelly._ Bring evidence against her that will convict her, so that she
will find it useless denying it.

_Peter._ But where is it?

_Nelly._ Here (_holding out the letter_).

_Peter._ Give it me.

_Nelly._ Stop, stop; you've not paid for it.

_Peter._ Upon my honour, I've not got a farthing in the world. I durst
not ask either father or mother after the bobbery we've had. Indeed, I
hardly know whether I dare go home and get my victuals, Won't you trust
me?

_Nelly._ When will you pay me?

_Peter._ When I come to my title and estate.

_Nelly._ Well then, as I think you are a gentleman, I will trust you.
Now observe, this letter is addressed to Sir Gilbert. It contains a
statement of facts that will astonish and convince him. You must not
trust it into other hands, but deliver it yourself.

_Peter._ He'll cudgel me.

_Nelly._ No, he will not. But, even if he did, would you mind a few
blows for the certainty of being one day Sir Peter Etheridge?

_Pe