he at once searched and deprived of various articles, including a
revolver, all the chambers of which were fortunately empty. Then,
producing his own revolver, the corporal gave it to his prisoner to
smell, remarking that, if he tried any nonsense, he would have a taste
of it that he would remember. Mrs. Richards was busy reducing the
inflammation of Mr. Bigglethorpe's burns. She insisted that he should go
no farther that night, and the whole Richards family, which had greatly
taken to the fisherman, combined to hold him an honoured prisoner. Mr.
Bigglethorpe consented to remain, and the Bridesdale contingent bade him
and his hosts good night. The constable went first with his prisoner,
followed by Matilda Nagle, between the lawyer and the detective. Monty
came next, clinging to Sylvanus and Mr. Terry, while Timotheus and Rufus
brought up the rear. Mrs. Richards had furnished the woman and her boy
with two shiny waterproofs, called by the young Richards gum coats, so
that Coristine and Sylvanus got back their contributions to the wardrobe
of the insane, but, save for the look of the thing, they would have been
better without them, since they only added a clammy burden to thoroughly
water-soaked bodies.

Still the rain fell in torrents. It trickled in many rills off the
penthouses of the pedestrians' headgear; from the lapels of coats and
from waistcoats it streamed down, concentrating itself upon soggy knees.
Broad sheets, like the flow of a water-cart, radiated from coat tails of
every description; and rivers descending trouser-legs, turned boots and
shoes into lakes, which sodden stockinged feet pumped out in returning
fountains. Happily there was no necessity for using gun or pistol, since
these weapons shared in the general pervading moisture. Yet the corporal
marched erect, with his left hand on his prisoner's shoulder. Poor
Matilda was cheerful, though shivering, and, turning round to her boy,
said; "It is a good thing, Monty, that we lit the fire when we did, for
it would be very hard to light one now;" to which the lad answered, "I
hain't a goin' to light no more fires no more." Sylvanus and the veteran
had been telling him what a bad thing it was to set houses on fire, and
the hypnotized boy, freed apparently from the mesmeric bond by the death
of his unnatural father, responded to the counsels of his new friends.
The influence lasted longer with Matilda, for as, in spite of the
absorbing rain, her companions w