their wind. I was very much exhausted myself, and hardly spoke one word
until we arrived at the next post town, when we found everybody in bed.
We contrived, however, to knock them up; and Timothy having seen that
our horses were put into the stable, we lay down till the next morning
upon a bed which happened to be unoccupied. Sorry as were the
accommodations, I never slept so soundly, and woke quite refreshed. The
next morning I stated my intention of posting to Dublin, and asked Tim
what we should do with the horses.

"They belong to the castle," replied he.

"Then in God's name, let the castle have them, for I wish for nothing
from that horrid place."

We stated to the landlord that the horses were to be sent back, and that
the man who took them would be paid for his trouble; and then it
occurred to me, that it would be a good opportunity of writing to
Melchior, _alias_ Sir Henry. I do not know why, but certainly my
animosity against him had subsided, and I did not think of taking legal
measures against him. I thought it, however, right to frighten him. I
wrote, therefore, as follows:--

"Sir Henry,--I send you back your horses with thanks, as they have
enabled Timothy and me to escape from your clutches. Your reputation
and your life now are in my power, and I will have ample revenge. The
fact of your intending murder, will be fully proved by my friend
Timothy, who was employed by you in disguise, and accompanied your
gipsy. You cannot escape the sentence of the law. Prepare yourself,
then, for the worst, as it is not my intention that you shall escape
the disgraceful punishment due to your crimes.

"Yours, Japhet Newland."

Having sealed this, and given it to the lad who was to return with the
horses, we finished our breakfast, and took a post-chaise on for Dublin,
where we arrived late in the evening. During our journey I requested
Timothy to narrate what had passed, and by what fortunate chance he had
been able to come so opportunely to my rescue.

"If you recollect, Japhet," replied Timothy, "you had received one or
two letters from me relative to the movements of the gipsy, and stating
his intention to carry off the little girl from the boarding-school. My
last letter, in which I had informed you that he had succeeded in
gaining an entrance into the ladies' school at Brentford, could not have
reached you, as I found by your note that you had set off the same
evening. The