the complement of passengers on our seat behind the
coachman was complete.

"Heard the news, sir?" said the florid man, turning to me.

"Not that I am aware of," I answered.

"It's the most tremendous thing that has happened these fifty
years," said the florid man. "A gang of coiners, sir, discovered at
Barkingham--in a house they used to call the Grange. All the dreadful
lot of bad silver that's been about, they're at the bottom of. And the
head of the gang not taken!--escaped, sir, like a ghost on the stage,
through a trap-door, after actually locking the runners into his
workshop. The blacksmiths from Barkingham had to break them out; the
whole house was found full of iron doors, back staircases, and all that
sort of thing, just like the Inquisition. A most respectable man, the
original proprietor! Think what a misfortune to have let his house to a
scoundrel who has turned the whole inside into traps, furnaces, and iron
doors. The fellow's reference, sir, was actually at a London bank, where
he kept a first-rate account. What is to become of society? where is our
protection? Where are our characters, when we are left at the mercy of
scoundrels? The times are awful--upon my soul, the times we live in are
perfectly awful!"

"Pray, sir, is there any chance of catching this coiner?" I inquired
innocently.

"I hope so, sir; for the sake of outraged society, I hope so," said
the excitable man. "They've printed handbills at Barkingham, offering
a reward for taking him. I was with my friend the mayor, early this
morning, and saw them issued. 'Mr. Mayor,' says I, 'I'm going West--give
me a few copies--let me help to circulate them--for the sake of outraged
society, let me help to circulate them. Here they are--take a few, sir,
for distribution. You'll see these are three other fellows to be
caught besides the principal rascal--one of them a scamp belonging to
a respectable family. Oh! what times! Take three copies, and pray
circulate them in three influential quarters. Perhaps that gentleman
next you would like a few. Will you take three, sir?"

"No, I won't," said the Bow Street runner doggedly. "Nor yet one of
'em--and it's my opinion that the coining-gang would be nabbed all the
sooner, if you was to give over helping the law to catch them."

This answer produced a vehement expostulation from my excitable
neighbor, to which I paid little attention, being better engaged in
reading the handbill.

It described the