s all O.K.," answered the youth.

"Why do you not get Dr. Smallpiece to look after your man?"

"'Cos we don't know nuthun about him, and he's too small a piece for our
boss. You best hurry up yer cakes and come on, doctor."

Re-entering the house for his instruments, the doctor confided to
Carruthers his distaste for the work before him, on account of the
mystery surrounding it, but said he supposed it was his duty to relieve
human suffering.

"Where is it?" asked the Squire.

"All I can tell you is that it is out on the lakes beyond the Lake
Settlement."

"I thocht as muckle," remarked the Squire to the detective, after the
doctor was carried away on the buckboard.

"Let as go and see Newcome," said the detective; and the pair went round
to the kitchen, where the wounded man lay on an improvised couch, and
was waited upon by big Ben Toner, anxious for news of Serlizer. Mr. Nash
began:--

"The doctor says that talking won't hurt you, Newcome."

"Dawn't spause 'twull," answered the surly fellow.

"Setting fire to buildings with intent to take life is a hanging matter,
Newcome."

"Oo said t'warnt?"

"You seem prepared for your fate."

"Ma vate was aw raight to I got t'bahl i'my laig."

"I mean, you don't seem to care if you are going to be hanged."

"Oo's a gaun to hahng us an' vor wat?"

"You'll be hanged for arson with intent to kill. There are witnesses to
prove you threatened to kill me at least."

Newcome started, and so did Ben.

"Yaw cahn't prove nowt."

"Yes I can. I've got your pocket book and the odd papers out of your
coat pocket."

"Aw'll hae yaw oop vor stalun as well as shootun, zee iv I dawn't, yaw
bloody thafe!"

"Keep a civil tongue in your head, man, or I'll send you to the lockup
at once," interposed the Squire.

"Leave him to me Squire; I'll manage him," whispered Nash.

Then, turning to the injurious Newcome, he continued:

"Your daughter, Sarah Eliza, is at Rawdon's Select Encampment, where the
stuff you sell is turned out. She can give some fine evidence. The
Peskiwanchow crowd, the man that pretends to be called Jones, and the
rest of them, were picked up by you in a waggon, I know, last night. The
coal oil and fire marks are on your hands still, and this pretty rag
came out of your side pocket. What is more, I don't need to ask the
Squire here to commit you. I've got a warrant already, on the evidence
of Henry and Stokes and Steadman. I'll serve that warrant on you