ted, then laughed at the warder with that sudden magic of
face that even softened hard hearts towards him.

"To be plain, mate, I'm here to stop. You'll be sure to knaw 'bout it
sooner or late, so I'll tell 'e now. I've done a thing I must pay for,
and 't is a clink job, so I've comed right along."

The warder grew rather sterner, and his eye instinctively roamed for a
constable.

"Best say no more, then. Awnly you've comed to the wrong place. Police
station's what you want, I reckon."

"Why for? This be County Gaol, ban't it?"

"Ess, that's so; but we doan't take in folks for the axin'. Tu many
queer caraters about."

Will saw the man's eyes twinkle, yet he was puzzled at this unexpected
problem.

"Look here," he said, "I like you, and I'll deal fair by you an' tell
you the rights of it. Step out here an' listen."

"Mind, what you sez will be used against you, then."

"Theer ban't no secret in it, for that matter."

The husband thereupon related his recent achievement, and concluded
thus:

"So, having kicked up a mort o' trouble, I doan't want to make no
more--see? An' I stepped here quiet to keep it out of the papers, an'
just take what punishment's right an' vitty for marryin' a maid wi'out
so much as by your leave. Now, then, caan't 'e do the rest?"

He regarded the warder gravely and inquiringly, but as the red-faced man
slowly sucked up the humour of the situation, his mouth expanded and his
eyes almost disappeared. Then he spoke through outbursts and shakings of
deep laughter.

"Oh Lard! Wheerever was you born to?"

Will flushed deeply, frowned, and clenched his fists at this question.

"Shut your gert mouth!" he said angrily. "Doan't bellow like that, or
I'll hit 'e awver the jaw! Do'e think I want the whole of Exeter City to
knaw my errand? What's theer to gape an' snigger at? Caan't 'e treat a
man civil?"

This reproof set the official off again, and only a furious demand from
Blanchard to go about his business and tell the Governor he wanted an
interview partially steadied him.

"By Gor! you'll be the death of me. Caan't help it--honour
bright--doan't mean no rudeness to you. Bless your young heart, an' the
gal's, whoever she be. Didn't 'e knaw? But theer! course you didn't,
else you wouldn't be here. Why, 't is purty near as hard to get in
prison as out again. You'll have to be locked up, an' tried by judge an'
jury, and plead guilty, and be sentenced, an' the Lard He knaws what
beside