ughtful manner,
"that's settled. And you intend to prosecute the men who took part in
last night's affair?"

"Yes, to the limit of the law, especially that man there," and Stubbles
pointed his finger scornfully at Douglas. "He was at the bottom of the
trouble, and he shall suffer for it."

"Well, look here, Mr. Stubbles," and Garton rose suddenly to his feet
as he spoke, "I warn you that the moment you do that, I shall have your
son arrested for attempted murder."

Had Simon Stubbles received a direct blow in the face, he would not
have been more surprised than at these words. His eyes bulged in
amazement, and he became as pale as death.

"What, what are you saying?" he gasped. "Surely you must be mistaken.
Ben, my son! attempted murder!"

"Yes, that was what he did. He pushed a woman over Long Wharf in the
city, and left her to her fate. And she would have been drowned but
for timely assistance."

"Oh, Lord!" and Stubbles buried his face in his hands. "I knew that
Ben was wild, but I had no idea he would do anything like that."

Presently he lifted his eyes to the lawyer's face.

"Are you sure it was Ben?" he asked. "There may have been a mistake.
Perhaps it was some one else."

"No, there has been no mistake. It was your son who did it; we have
good proof of that."

"And who was the woman? Much depends upon who she is. It may be a
case of black-mail."

"It was a girl from your own place, a neighbour of yours, Jean Benton."

With a gurgled groan of abandoned hope, Stubbles sank back and remained
huddled in his chair, a pitiable object of misery. The man who had
acted the tyrant for years, who hardly knew the meaning of mercy, and
had crushed all who opposed him, was now being paid back tenfold. As
he had sown, so was he reaping.

"We must go now," the lawyer reminded him, after a few seconds of
silence. "But remember, Mr. Stubbles, the instant you lay a charge
against Mr. Handyman here, or any of the men who took part in last
night's affair, you will know what to expect. And as for you, Mr.
Hawkins," and he turned to the Squire, "I shall deal with you later for
wilfully perverting justice. You acted with cowardice and partiality
at the trial, and you must put up with the consequences."

"Don't do anything, for God's sake!" Hawkins cried, now smitten with a
terrible fear. "I will do what you say, but don't take action, I
beseech you. It will ruin my business."

This was just what Ga