rned to
the room in which the other witnesses were assembled, with melancholy
forebodings that his real name having been given in open court would
lead to some disaster. He had not been there long before a
peace-officer came in, and said to him,--"Step this way, if you please,
sir; I have something to say to you."

Joey went with him outside the door, when the peace-officer, looking at
him full in the face, said, "Your name is Joseph Rushbrook; you said so
in the witness-box?"

"Yes," replied Joey, "that is my true name."

"Why did you change it?" demanded the officer.

"I had reasons," replied our hero.

"Yes, and I'll tell you the reasons," rejoined the other. "You were
concerned in a murder some years ago; a reward was offered for your
apprehension, and you absconded from justice. I see that you are the
person; your face tells me so. You are my prisoner. Now, come away
quietly, sir; it is of no use for you to resist, and you will only be
worse treated."

Joey's heart had almost ceased to beat when the constable addressed him;
he felt that denial was useless, and that the time was now come when
either he or his father must suffer; he, therefore, made no reply, but
quietly followed the peace officer, who, holding him by the arm, called
a coach, into which he ordered Joey to enter, and following him,
directed the coachman to drive to the police-office.

As soon as the magistrate had been acquainted by the officer who the
party was whom he had taken into custody, he first pointed out to our
hero that he had better not say any thing which might criminate himself,
and then asked him if his name was Joseph Rushbrook.

Joey replied that it was.

"Have you anything to say that might prevent my committing you on the
charge of murder?" demanded the magistrate.

"Nothing, except that I am not guilty," replied Joey.

"I have had the warrant out against him these seven years, or
thereabouts, but he escaped me," observed the peace-officer; "he was but
a lad then."

"He must have been a child, to judge by his present appearance,"
observed the magistrate, who was making out the committal. "I now
perfectly recollect the affair."

The officer received the committal, and in half an hour our hero was
locked up with felons of every description. His blood ran cold when he
found himself enclosed within the massive walls; and as soon as the
gaoler had left him alone, he shuddered and covered his face with his
hands.