al. "To trespass upon your
kindness, Miss Hill, with such as this," said the apologetic constable,
pointing to his prisoner, "is no act of mine; Squire Carruthers, who, no
doubt, thinks he knows best, has given orders that it has to be, and my
duty is to carry out his orders to the letter." Breakfast seemed to
infuse courage into the dissipated farmer. When it was over, he arose,
and, without a note of warning, doubled up the stiff guardian of the
peace, and made for the door, where he fell into the arms of the
incoming Serlizer. She evidently thought that Mark Davis, smitten with
her charms, was about to salute her, for, with the words "Scuse me!" and
a double turn of her powerful wrists, she deposited the assailant upon
the floor. Sadly, but officially, the constable crawled over and sat
upon the prostrate form of the would-be fugitive from justice. The
prisoner squirmed, and even struck the doubled-up corporal, but the
entrance of Ben Toner put an end to that nonsense, so that, handcuffed
and chained once more, the desperate villain was hauled into the
presence of the magistrates. In dignified, but subordinate, language,
Mr. Rigby related the prisoner's escapade, and, by implication, more
than by actual statement, gave the J.P.s to understand that they knew
nothing about the management of offenders against the law. They were,
therefore, compelled to allow the handcuffs to remain, but summoned
sufficient courage to insist on the removal of the stable chains.

"What is your name, prisoner?" asked Squire Carruthers.

"Samuel Wilson," answered the man.

"Oh! kem now," interposed Mr. Bangs, "thet's a lie, you know; yore name
is Merk Devis, end yore a brether of Metthew Devis of the Peskiwenchow
tevern, end you were Rawdon's right hend men. We know you, my led, so
down't you try any alias games on us."

"Ef you know my name so mighty well, what do you want askin' for't?"

"To see if you can speak the truth," replied Carruthers.

"What other prisoners hev you got asides me?"

"That is none of your business," said the Squire.

"If I might be ellowed to seggest, Squire," whispered the detective, "I
think I'd tell him. Whet do you sey?"

"Go on, Mr. Bangs."

"Well, my fine fellow, the Squire ellows me to sey thet the ethers are
Newcome, the stowne ketters, and the women."

The name of Newcome disconcerted Mark, but he asked, "Whar's Rawdon and
old Flower?"

"Didn't you see?" asked Mr. Bangs.

"I seen the fire a