rs took the paper extended to him, and, after glancing over it,
remarked, "This handwriting is very familiar to me, very; but whose it is,
I can't say; it appears to be a list of addresses, or something of that
kind." And he read over various names of streets, and numbers of houses.
"Why," he exclaimed, with a start of surprise, "here is my own house upon
the list, 257, Easton-street; then here is 22, Christian-street; here also
are numbers in Baker-street, Bedford-street, Sixth, Seventh, and Eighth
Streets; in some of which houses I know coloured people live, for one or
two of them are my own. This is a strange affair."

As he spoke, he turned over the paper, and read on the other side,--"Places
to be attacked." "Why, this looks serious," he continued, with some
excitement of manner. "'Places to be attacked,'--don't that seem to you as
if it might be a list of places for these rioters to set upon? I really
must look into this. Who could have left it here?"

"I raly don't know," replied the old man. "Kinch told me suthin' last
night about some gemman comin' here and changing his clothes; p'raps 'twas
him. I'd like to know who 'twas myself. Well, wait awhile, my boy will come
in directly; maybe he can explain it."

He had scarcely finished speaking, when Master Kinch made his appearance,
with his hat, as usual, placed upon nine hairs, and his mouth smeared with
the eggs and bacon with which he had been "staying and comforting" himself.
He took off his hat on perceiving Mr. Walters, and, with great humility,
"hoped that gentleman was well."

"Yes, very well, Kinch," replied Mr. Walters. "We were waiting for you. Can
you tell where this came from?" he asked, handing him the mysterious paper.

"Never seen it before, that I know of," replied Kinch, after a short
inspection.

"Well, who was here last night?" asked his father; "you said you sold
suthin'?"

"So I did," replied Kinch; "sold a whole suit; and the gentleman who put it
on said he was going out for a lark. He was changing some papers from his
pocket: perhaps he dropped it. I'm to take this suit back to him to-day.
Here is his card."

"By heavens!" exclaimed Mr. Walters, after looking at the card, "I know the
fellow,--George Stevens, 'Slippery George,'--every one knows him, and can
speak no good of him either. Now I recognize the handwriting of the list; I
begin to suspect something wrong by seeing his name in connection with
this."

Hereupon Kinch was subj