bail to any
amount."

"We don't want your bail, my good friend; we want the man who calls
himself Harvey Middleton in Herts, Godfrey Middleton in Surrey, the
Chevalier Duchatel in France, Harry Talbot in Ireland, but who is better
known in the police sheet;" and here he opened a printed paper, and
pointing to the words,--"full description of John Barrington,
convicted at the Maidstone assizes, and sentenced to fifteen years
transportation."

The smile of insolent incredulity with which Mark listened to these
imputations on the honour of his friend, if it did not assuage the
anger of the constable, served to satisfy him that he was at least no
practised colleague in crime, and turning to Lanty, he talked to him in
a low whisper for several minutes.

"I tell ye," said Lanty, eagerly, in reply to some remark of the other,
"his worship will never forgive you if you arrest him; his time is not
yet come, and you'll get little thanks for interfering where ye had no
business."

Whether convinced by these arguments, or deterred from making Mark his
prisoner, by the conscious illegality of the act, the man collected his
party, and having given them his orders in a low voice, left the room,
followed by the others.

A gesture from Mark arrested Lanty, as he was in the act of passing
out. "A word with you Lanty," said he, firmly. "What is the information
against Talbot?--what is he accused of?"

"Sure didn't you hear yourself," replied Lanty, in a simpering, mock
bashful voice. "They say he's Barrington the robber, and faith, they've
strong evidence that they're not far out. 'Tis about a horse I sold
him that I came here. I didn't want to harm or hurt any body, and if I
thought he was a friend of yours----"

"He is a friend of mine," said Mark, "and therefore these stories are
but one tissue of falsehoods. Are you aware, Lanty"--and here as the
youth spoke his voice became low and whispering--"are you aware that
Talbot is an agent of the French Government--that he is over here to
report on the condition of our party, and arrange for the rising?"

"Is it in earnest you are?" cried Lanty, with an expression of admirably
dissembled astonishment. "Are you telling me truth, Master Mark."

"Yes, and more still--the day is not far distant now, when we shall
strike the blow."

"I want you here, my worthy friend," said the constable, putting his
head into the room, and touching Lanty's shoulder. The horsedealer
looked confused,