n, stared too.

"Hark ye," said the little man, sipping his brandy and water, "I am a
deuced good-natured fellow, so I'll make you a great man to-night; for
nothing makes a man so great as being let into a great secret. Did you
ever hear of the rich Mr. Crauford?"

"Certainly: who has not?"

"Did you ever see him?"

"No! I can't say I ever did."

"You lie, landlord: you saw him to-night."

"Sir!" cried the landlord, bristling up.

The little man pulled out a brace of pistols, and very quietly began
priming them out of a small powder-flask.

The landlord started back; the head-waiter cried "Rape!" and the barmaid
"Murder!"

"Who the devil are you, sir?" cried the landlord.

"Mr. Tickletrout! the celebrated officer,--thief-taker, as they call
it. Have a care, ma'am, the pistols are loaded. I see the chaise is out;
there's the reckoning, landlord."

"O Lord! I'm sure I don't want any reckoning: too great an honour for my
poor house to be favoured with your company; but [following the little
man to the door] whom did you please to say you were going to catch?"

"Mr. Crauford, alias Dr. Stapylton."

"Lord! Lord! to think of it,--how shocking! What has he done?"

"Swindled, I believe."

"My eyes! And why, sir, did not you catch him when he was in the bar?"

"Because then I should not have got paid for my journey to Dover. Shut
the door, boy; first stage on to Canterbury." And, drawing a woollen
nightcap over his ears, Mr. Tickletrout resigned himself to his
nocturnal excursion.

On the very day on which the patent for his peerage was to have been
made out, on the very day on which he had afterwards calculated on
reaching Paris, on that very day was Mr. Richard Crauford lodged in
Newgate, fully committed for a trial of life and death.

CHAPTER LXXXIII.

There, if, O gentle love! I read aright
The utterance that sealed thy sacred bond,
'T was listening to those accents of delight
She hid upon his breast those eyes, beyond
Expression's power to paint, all languishingly fond.--CAMPBELL.

"And you will positively leave us for London," said Lady Flora,
tenderly, "and to-morrow too!" This was said to one who under the name
of Clarence Linden has played the principal part in our drama, and whom
now, by the death of his brother succeeding to the honours of his house,
we present to our reader as Clinton L'Estrange, Earl of Ulswater.

They were alone in the memorable pavilion; and though it wa