A most noble benignity and purity reposed in

There did not seem to be brains enough in the entire nursery, so to speak, to bait a fish-hook with; but you didn't seem to mind that, after a little, because you soon saw that brains were not needed in a society like that, and indeed would have marred it, hindered it, spoiled its symmetry -- perhaps rendered its existence impossible. There was a fine manliness observable in almost every face; and in some a certain loftiness and sweetness that rebuked your belittling criticisms and stilled them. A most noble benignity and purity reposed in the countenance of him they called Sir Galahad, and likewise in the king's also; and there was majesty and greatness in the giant frame and high bearing of Sir Launcelot of the Lake. There was presently an incident which centered the general interest upon this Sir Launcelot. At a sign from a sort of master of ceremonies, six or eight of the prisoners rose and came forward in a body and knelt on the floor and lifted up their hands toward the ladies' gallery and begged the grace of a word with the queen. The most conspicuously situated lady in that massed flower-bed of feminine show and finery inclined her head by way of assent, and then the spokesman of the prisoners delivered himself and his fellows into her hands for free pardon, ransom, captivity, or death, as she in her good pleasure might elect; and this, as he said, he was doing by command of Sir Kay the Seneschal, whose prisoners they were, he having vanquished them by his single might and prowess in sturdy conflict in the field. Surprise and astonishment flashed from face to face all over the house; the queen's gratified smile faded out at the name of Sir Kay, and she looked disappointed; and the page whispered in my ear with an accent and manner expressive of extravagant derision - "Sir KAY, forsooth! Oh, call me pet names, dearest, call me a marine! In twice a thousand years shall the unholy invention of man labor at odds to beget the fellow to this majestic lie!"

were caked with black and stiffened

It was hard to associate them with anything cruel or dreadful; and yet they dealt in tales of blood and suffering with a guileless relish that made me almost forget to shudder. I was not the only prisoner present. There were twenty or more. Poor devils, many of them were maimed, hacked, carved, in a frightful way; and their hair, their faces, their clothing, were caked with black and stiffened drenchings of blood. They were suffering sharp physical pain, of course; and weariness, and hunger and thirst, no doubt; and at least none had given them the comfort of a wash, or even the poor charity of a lotion for their wounds; yet you never heard them utter a moan or a groan, or saw them show any sign of restlessness, or any disposition to complain. The thought was forced upon me: "The rascals -- THEY have served other people so in their day; it being their own turn, now, they were not expecting any better treatment than this; so their philosophical bearing is not an outcome of mental training, intellectual fortitude, reasoning; it is mere animal training; they are white Indians." Chapter 3 Knights Of The Table Round MAINLY the Round Table talk was monologues -narrative accounts of the adventures in which these prisoners were captured and their friends and backers killed and stripped of their steeds and armor. As a general thing -- as far as I could make out -these murderous adventures were not forays undertaken to avenge injuries, nor to settle old disputes or sudden fallings out; no, as a rule they were simply duels between strangers -- duels between people who had never even been introduced to each other, and between whom existed no cause of offense whatever. Many a time I had seen a couple of boys, strangers, meet by chance, and say simultaneously, "I can lick you," and go at it on the spot; but I had always imagined until now that that sort of thing belonged to children only, and was a sign and mark of childhood; but here were these big boobies sticking to it and taking pride in it clear up into full age and beyond. Yet there was something very engaging about these great simple-hearted creatures, something attractive and lovable.

but a few were still munching bread

In the middle of this groined and vaulted public square was an oaken table which they called the Table Round. It was as large as a circus ring; and around it sat a great company of men dressed in such various and splendid colors that it hurt one's eyes to look at them. They wore their plumed hats, right along, except that whenever one addressed himself directly to the king, he lifted his hat a trifle just as he was beginning his remark. Mainly they were drinking -- from entire ox horns; but a few were still munching bread or gnawing beef bones. There was about an average of two dogs to one man; and these sat in expectant attitudes till a spent bone was flung to them, and then they went for it by brigades and divisions, with a rush, and there ensued a fight which filled the prospect with a tumultuous chaos of plunging heads and bodies and flashing tails, and the storm of howlings and barkings deafened all speech for the time; but that was no matter, for the dog-fight was always a bigger interest anyway; the men rose, sometimes, to observe it the better and bet on it, and the ladies and the musicians stretched themselves out over their balusters with the same object; and all broke into delighted ejaculations from time to time. In the end, the winning dog stretched himself out comfortably with his bone between his paws, and proceeded to growl over it, and gnaw it, and grease the floor with it, just as fifty others were already doing; and the rest of the court resumed their previous industries and entertainments. As a rule, the speech and behavior of these people were gracious and courtly; and I noticed that they were good and serious listeners when anybody was telling anything -- I mean in a dog-fightless interval. And plainly, too, they were a childlike and innocent lot; telling lies of the stateliest pattern with a most gentle and winning naivety, and ready and willing to listen to anybody else's lie, and believe it, too.

and would probably exaggerate the facts a little

I saw that the last chance had the best show, but I didn't waste any bother about that; time was too precious. The page said, further, that dinner was about ended in the great hall by this time, and that as soon as the sociability and the heavy drinking should begin, Sir Kay would have me in and exhibit me before King Arthur and his illustrious knights seated at the Table Round, and would brag about his exploit in capturing me, and would probably exaggerate the facts a little, but it wouldn't be good form for me to correct him, and not over safe, either; and when I was done being exhibited, then ho for the dungeon; but he, Clarence, would find a way to come and see me every now and then, and cheer me up, and help me get word to my friends. Get word to my friends! I thanked him; I couldn't do less; and about this time a lackey came to say I was wanted; so Clarence led me in and took me off to one side and sat down by me. Well, it was a curious kind of spectacle, and interesting. It was an immense place, and rather naked -yes, and full of loud contrasts. It was very, very lofty; so lofty that the banners depending from the arched beams and girders away up there floated in a sort of twilight; there was a stone-railed gallery at each end, high up, with musicians in the one, and women, clothed in stunning colors, in the other. The floor was of big stone flags laid in black and white squares, rather battered by age and use, and needing repair. As to ornament, there wasn't any, strictly speaking; though on the walls hung some huge tapestries which were probably taxed as works of art; battle-pieces, they were, with horses shaped like those which children cut out of paper or create in gingerbread; with men on them in scale armor whose scales are represented by round holes -- so that the man's coat looks as if it had been done with a biscuit-punch. There was a fireplace big enough to camp in; and its projecting sides and hood, of carved and pillared stonework, had the look of a cathedral door. Along the walls stood men-at-arms, in breastplate and morion, with halberds for their only weapon -- rigid as statues; and that is what they looked like.

I now shoved this whole problem clear out of

I knew that the only total eclipse of the sun in the first half of the sixth century occurred on the 21st of June, A. D. 528, O.S., and began at 3 minutes after 12 noon. I also knew that no total eclipse of the sun was due in what to ME was the present year -- i.e., 1879. So, if I could keep my anxiety and curiosity from eating the heart out of me for forty-eight hours, I should then find out for certain whether this boy was telling me the truth or not. Wherefore, being a practical Connecticut man, I now shoved this whole problem clear out of my mind till its appointed day and hour should come, in order that I might turn all my attention to the circumstances of the present moment, and be alert and ready to make the most out of them that could be made. One thing at a time, is my motto -- and just play that thing for all it is worth, even if it's only two pair and a jack. I made up my mind to two things: if it was still the nineteenth century and I was among lunatics and couldn't get away, I would presently boss that asylum or know the reason why; and if, on the other hand, it was really the sixth century, all right, I didn't want any softer thing: I would boss the whole country inside of three months; for I judged I would have the start of the best-educated man in the kingdom by a matter of thirteen hundred years and upward. I'm not a man to waste time after my mind's made up and there's work on hand; so I said to the page: "Now, Clarence, my boy -- if that might happen to be your name -- I'll get you to post me up a little if you don't mind. What is the name of that apparition that brought me here?" "My master and thine? That is the good knight and great lord Sir Kay the Seneschal, foster brother to our liege the king." "Very good; go on, tell me everything." He made a long story of it; but the part that had immediate interest for me was this: He said I was Sir Kay's prisoner, and that in the due course of custom I would be flung into a dungeon and left there on scant commons until my friends ransomed me -- unless I chanced to rot, first.

It lay about for a day or so

Kindell was quick to answer that which had not been addressed to him: "That was what I was. But I wished to see whether you knew me, in view of the use which had been made of my name here." "Then I can tell you at once that I never heard as much as your name till I got the postcard to say that you were sending something here which your friend would collect, and, if there had been any address upon it I should have written to say that it was a liberty which I could not permit." "Might I see that postcard?" "You could with pleasure if it had not been destroyed. It lay about for a day or so, and then I put it on the fire. Actually, I thought it had been wrongly addressed to me." "Then you might have given it back to the postman." "I thought of that. But what use would it have been? It had no address on it except mine, and that was correct." She lied readily, having thought out this explanation beforehand. Professor Blinkwell, listening in admiration, thought that he had underestimated her capacities for duplicity. Perhaps he might have made greater use of her in the past than he had thought wise to do! Kindell did not know how much to believe, by which her effort of imagination may be classified as a success. He was not fully convinced, for the presence of Myra at the house was a certain fact, by which others must be assessed. But he was uncertain how much Mrs. Collinson might have been accomplice, or merely tool. As the latter, she might know less, but what she did know she should be the more ready to tell. As he considered this, he had a doubt of whether Professor Blinkwell s presence was to be the advantage which he had hoped. But none of these reflections could change the direction of his attack. "What we want to know now," he said, "is, in particular, the name and address of the man to whom the wrong case was delivered." "It wasn't delivered anywhere. Your man came and took it away."

He had a sanguine hope that

Kindell felt that there was evidence of success in the mere fact that the Professor, with whatever protests of ignorance, had consented to accompany him. He had a sanguine hope that, however cunningly it might be cloaked, the Professor's real purpose was to assure himself of Irene's safety, and arrange for her release from whatever detention she might be experiencing. On his side, Professor Blinkwell, with greater subtlety, saw that he had been invited to do what he wished, but would otherwise have considered too dangerous. He felt that he was acting in a natural manner, and as an innocent man, impelled by friendly feeling, would be likely to do. Mrs. Collinson would be wamed before his arrival that he was a stranger to her. Apart from that, she could not give much away, even though she were subject to persuasion or threats, for on the matter which Kindell was investigating there was very little she knew. . . . They were admitted at once, though the hour was becoming late. Becky showed them into an empty room, and asked for their names. She returned immediately to say that her mistress would be with them in a few minutes. Five minutes later the lady entered the room. Her fingers were on a blouse-button, which she fastened as she appeared. Without mentioning the matter at all, she implied that the visit had surprised her when she had been preparing for rest. "Mr. Kindell?" she asked tentatively, looking at the Professor as she spoke. He corrected her error, introducing himself and his companion. He added: "Mr. Kindell is concerned about a muddle which has occurred, and a young lady he believes to be lost. He will explain it better than I should be able to do." Mrs. Collinson looked at Kindell as though he wcre an enigma she could neither understand nor approve. "This," she asked, "is really Mr. Kindell? Then I should be glad if he would explain what has occurred, and the use which he has made of this house. You may not know that he was here a few hours ago, and then spoke of himself as though he were another man. He was a messenger from the American Embassy. Or at least that was what he said then."

on what you tell me

"I must say again that it is a queer tale. And that I have any influence with the lady must, I fear, be imagination rather than fact. But it may be a matter on which two will do better than one. If you are set upon going to see her now, I will not decline to come with you and add my persuasions to yours. But. on what you tell me, it is a matter that the police should not be leaving to us. Have you a car waiting? Then we will go in. that. It will be slightly more expeditious than ordering mine. If you will excuse me for a moment, I will be with you." "May I use your 'phone?" "By all means. The police should know what we are proposing to do." Waving his hand to the instrument, the Professor left the room. He was back almost immediately, having put on his hat and coat, and given some brief instructions to his butler, which would result in further devious telephone communications after they had left the house. Meanwhile, Kindell had telephoned to Superintendent Allenby, and learned that there was still no news of Irene or her driver. He said that he had explained the position frankly to Professor Blinkwell, who would go with him to Mrs. Collinson's He would not say more, fearing that he might be overheard But he would have liked to add that his frankness had had one important omission. He had intended to lead the Professor to hope, perhaps to believe, that the nature of the contents of the valise was not known - perhaps was not even suspected - by the police, and that there had been a genuine error in regard to its labelling. Had he been successful in that? It was hard to guess. Chapter 31 Mrs.Collinson Holds Her Own PROFESSOR BLINKWELL AND Kindell entered the waiting taxi together, each feeling that he had been victor in the verbal skirmish from which they came.

And I think you will be wasting your time

"Then I can understand your anxiety, but I can assure you that she has not eloped with me. It is not a matter in which I could assist you at all." "But I think you could. Superintendent Allenby is of the same opinion." "I cannot imagine how. And I think you will be wasting your time, as you are certainly wasting mine. But I will hear what you have to say." "Then it is soon said. The French waiter, Gustav, took a valise to Miss Thurlow, which he asked her to get through the Customs with her father's luggage. He said it was mine, and that the request was a message from me, which was a lie. He gave her a label to put on it, so that on its arrival in England it could be forwarded, as he said, to me. The label was addressed to Mrs. Collinson's house, of which I knew nothing. By a very natural error, it was put on the wrong case. When the mistake was discovered, after it had been delivered, Miss Thurlow took the right case to Mrs. Collinson's. She was just too late to prevent the man for whom it must have been really meant driving away with it. She followed him to correct the error. That was several hours ago, and she has not returned." "There may be one of a dozen simple explanations of that." "The taxi which she hired has been found on a cab rank, but the driver was not there." "Having, perhaps, gone for a drink?" "His absence was far too long for such an explanation." "It is certainly a queer tale. But, if the police have it in hand, it is hard to see what more you can do." "It was the police who suggested I should come to you." "But why, in the name of common sense, should they do that?" "Because they thought you would have influence with Mrs. Collinson to persuade her to give the address of the man to whom the suitcase belongs." "You mean that she has refused this information to them?" "I cannot say that. They may not have tried."

It is not a name which

But there was no evidence that the shot went home. "She is a lady whom you think I could influence? Perhaps you will say why, and what you would ask me to do. It is not a name which I can recollect as that of one whom I know." "Myra knows her." "That is a different matter. Myra's female friends are more than I am ever likely to count It may be a reason why you should ask for her assistance rather than mine in whatever entanglement - - Unless," he added, with a sudden change of tone, as of one whose mind was illuminated by a new idea, "it is such a matter as you would prefer that she should not know?" Kindell saw that he was making no progress of any kind. The Professor's skill in verbal fence was impregnable against attempted surprise. He said: "I had better tell you plainly what has occurred." The Professor rose. "Kindell," he said, "I don't want to be rude. But if you really want me to do you a favour, you are scarcely going about it in the best way. I was engaged upon important and urgent work when you were announced, in spite of which I did not refuse to see you, but I have given you more than one hint already that I am anxious to resume it without further delay. If you like to come to dinner tomorrow - I shall be fully engaged during the day - I will listen to whatever troubles you have, but I must ask you to be good enough to go now." "Then I must be equally plain. I am engaged on a matter that will not wait. We have lost too much time already in talk that has led us nowhere. I am concerned for Miss Thurlow's safety, and if you will assist me in that matter, it may be beneficial in other ways." "Miss Thurlow? You mean the charming daughter of the American Ambassador? Myra pointed her out to me as one who was friendly to you. But what could threaten her safety in a country where we might say that she is an international guest?" "She disappeared this evening, and the driver of her taxi is missing also."

but the place was silent and deserted

Sheen, it seemed, had escaped destruction, but the place was silent and deserted. Here we happened on no dead, though the night was too dark for us to see into the side roads of the place. In Sheen my companion suddenly complained of faintness and thirst, and we decided to try one of the houses. The first house we entered, after a little difficulty with the window, was a small semi-detached villa, and I found nothing eatable left in the place but some mouldy cheese. There was, however, water to drink; and I took a hatchet, which promised to be useful in our next housebreaking. We then crossed to a place where the road turns towards Mortlake. Here there stood a white house within a walled garden, and in the pantry of this domicile we found a store of food--two loaves of bread in a pan, an uncooked steak, and the half of a ham. I give this catalogue so precisely because, as it happened, we were destined to subsist upon this store for the next fortnight. Bottled beer stood under a shelf, and there were two bags of haricot beans and some limp lettuces. This pantry opened into a kind of wash-up kitchen, and in this was firewood; there was also a cupboard, in which we found nearly a dozen of burgundy, tinned soups and salmon, and two tins of biscuits. We sat in the adjacent kitchen in the dark--for we dared not strike a light--and ate bread and ham, and drank beer out of the same bottle. The curate, who was still timorous and restless, was now, oddly enough, for pushing on, and I was urging him to keep up his strength by eating when the thing happened that was to imprison us. "It can't be midnight yet," I said, and then came a blinding glare of vivid green light. Everything in the kitchen leaped out, clearly visible in green and black, and vanished again.

would not let me rest

But my fixed idea of reaching Leatherhead would not let me rest, and in the twilight I ventured out again. I went through a shrubbery, and along a passage beside a big house standing in its own grounds, and so emerged upon the road towards Kew. The curate I left in the shed, but he came hurrying after me. That second start was the most foolhardy thing I ever did. For it was manifest the Martians were about us. No sooner had the curate overtaken me than we saw either the fightingmachine we had seen before or another, far away across the meadows in the direction of Kew Lodge. Four or five little black figures hurried before it across the green-grey of the field, and in a moment it was evident this Martian pursued them. In three strides he was among them, and they ran radiating from his feet in all directions. He used no Heat-Ray to destroy them, but picked them up one by one. Apparently he tossed them into the great metallic carrier which projected behind him, much as a workman's basket hangs over his shoulder. It was the first time I realised that the Martians might have any other purpose than destruction with defeated humanity. We stood for a moment petrified, then turned and fled through a gate behind us into a walled garden, fell into, rather than found, a fortunate ditch, and lay there, scarce daring to whisper to each other until the stars were out. I suppose it was nearly eleven o'clock before we gathered courage to start again, no longer venturing into the road, but sneaking along hedgerows and through plantations, and watching keenly through the darkness, he on the right and I on the left, for the Martians, who seemed to be all about us. In one place we blundered upon a scorched and blackened area, now cooling and ashen, and a number of scattered dead bodies of men, burned horribly about the heads and trunks but with their legs and boots mostly intact; and of dead horses, fifty feet, perhaps, behind a line of four ripped guns and smashed gun carriages.

though none could give us news

Away across the road the woods beyond Ham and Petersham were still afire. Twickenham was uninjured by either Heat-Ray or Black Smoke, and there were more people about here, though none could give us news. For the most part they were like ourselves, taking advantage of a lull to shift their quarters. I have an impression that many of the houses here were still occupied by scared inhabitants, too frightened even for flight. Here too the evidence of a hasty rout was abundant along the road. I remember most vividly three smashed bicycles in a heap, pounded into the road by the wheels of subsequent carts. We crossed Richmond Bridge about half past eight. We hurried across the exposed bridge, of course, but I noticed floating down the stream a number of red masses, some many feet across. I did not know what these were--there was no time for scrutiny--and I put a more horrible interpretation on them than they deserved. Here again on the Surrey side were black dust that had once been smoke, and dead bodies--a heap near the approach to the station; but we had no glimpse of the Martians until we were some way towards Barnes. We saw in the blackened distance a group of three people running down a side street towards the river, but otherwise it seemed deserted. Up the hill Richmond town was burning briskly; outside the town of Richmond there was no trace of the Black Smoke. Then suddenly, as we approached Kew, came a number of people running, and the upperworks of a Martian fightingmachine loomed in sight over the housetops, not a hundred yards away from us. We stood aghast at our danger, and had the Martian looked down we must immediately have perished. We were so terrified that we dared not go on, but turned aside and hid in a shed in a garden. There the curate crouched, weeping silently, and refusing to stir again.

that now we might get away

For a time we did not see how this change affected our position, save that we were relieved of our fear of the Black Smoke. But later I perceived that we were no longer hemmed in, that now we might get away. So soon as I realised that the way of escape was open, my dream of action returned. But the curate was lethargic, unreasonable. "We are safe here," he repeated; "safe here." I resolved to leave him--would that I had! Wiser now for the artilleryman's teaching, I sought out food and drink. I had found oil and rags for my burns, and I also took a hat and a flannel shirt that I found in one of the bedrooms. When it was clear to him that I meant to go alone--had reconciled myself to going alone--he suddenly roused himself to come. And all being quiet throughout the afternoon, we started about five o'clock, as I should judge, along the blackened poad to Sunbury. In Sunbury, and at intervals along the road, were dead bodies lying in contorted attitudes, horses as well as men, overturned carts and luggage, all covered thickly with black dust. That pall of cindery powder made me think of what I had read of the destruction of Pompeii. We got to Hampton Court without misadventure, our minds full of strange and unfamiliar appearances, and at Hampton Court our eyes were relieved to find a patch of green that had escaped the suffocating drift. We went through Bushey Park, with its deer going to and fro under the chestnuts, and some men and women hurrying in the distance towards Hampton, and so we came to Twickenham. These were the first people we saw.

When he followed me thither

There I will resume. We stopped there all Sunday night and all the next day--the day of the panic--in a little island of daylight, cut off by the Black Smoke from the rest of the world. We could do nothing but wait in aching inactivity during those two weary days. My mind was occupied by anxiety for my wife. I figured her at Leatherhead, terrified, in danger, mourning me already as a dead man. I paced the rooms and cried aloud when I thought of how I was cut off from her, of all that might happen to her in my absence. My cousin I knew was brave enough for any emergency, but he was not the sort of man to realise danger quickly, to rise promptly. What was needed now was not bravery, but circumspection. My only consolation was to believe that the Martians were moving Londonward and away from her. Such vague anxieties keep the mind sensitive and painful. I grew very weary and irritable with the curate's perpetual ejaculations; I tired of the sight of his selfish despair. After some ineffectual remonstrance I kept away from him, staying in a room--evidently a children's schoolroom--containing globes, forms, and copybooks. When he followed me thither, I went to a box room at the top of the house and, in order to be alone with my aching miseries, locked myself in. We were hopelessly hemmed in by the Black Smoke all that day and the morning of the next. There were signs of people in the next house on Sunday evening--a face at a window and moving lights, and later the slamming of a door. But I do not know who these people were, nor what became of them. We saw nothing of them next day. The Black Smoke drifted slowly riverward all through Monday morning, creeping nearer and nearer to us, driving at last along the roadway outside the house that hid us. A Martian came across the fields about midday, laying the stuff with a jet of superheated steam that hissed against the walls, smashed all the windows it touched, and scalded the curate's hand as he fled out of the front room. When at last we crept across the sodden rooms and looked out again, the country northward was as though a black snowstorm had passed over it. Looking towards the river, we were astonished to see an unaccountable redness mingling with the black of the scorched meadows.

He looked up with startled

The speaker of these words was Mrs. Ferguson's brother, William Hackman, and his companion was a detective.  The wife had laid her still sleeping child down on the lounge and was coolly completing Alida's preparations for dinner.  Her husband had sunk back into a chair and again buried his face in his hands.  He looked up with startled, bloodshot eyes as his brother-in-law and the stranger entered, and then resumed his former attitude. Mrs. Ferguson briefly related what had happened, and then said, "Take chairs and draw up." "I don't want any dinner," muttered the husband. Mr. William Hackman now gave way to his irritation.  Turning to his brother, he relieved his mind as follows: "See here, Hank Ferguson, if you hadn't the best wife in the land, this gentleman would now be giving you a promenade to jail.  I've left my work for weeks, and spent a sight of money to see that my sister got her rights, and, by thunder!  she's going to have 'em.  We've agreed to give you a chance to brace up and be a man.  If we find out there isn't any man in you, then you go to prison and hard labor to the full extent of the law.  We've fixed things so you can't play any more tricks.  This man is a private detective.  As long as you do the square thing by your wife and child, you'll be let alone.  If you try to sneak off, you'll be nabbed.  Now, if you aint a scamp down to your heel-taps, get up out of that chair like a man, treat your wife as she deserves for letting you off so easy, and don't make her change her mind by acting as if you, and not her, was the wronged person." At heart Ferguson was a weak, cowardly, selfish creature, whose chief aim in life was to have things to suit himself.  When they ceased to be agreeable, he was ready for a change, without much regard for the means to his ends.  He had always foreseen the possibility of the event which had now taken place, but, like all self-indulgent natures, had hoped that he might escape detection.

to her eyes and departed

"Madam," interrupted Holcroft sternly, "did I agree to do what you approved of?  Your course is so peculiar that I scarcely believe you are in your right mind.  You had better go to your room and try to recover your senses.  If I can't have things in this house to suit me, I'll have no one in it.  Here, Jane, you can help." Mrs. Mumpson put her handkerchief to her eyes and departed.  She felt that this display of emotion would touch Holcroft's feelings when he came to think the scene all over. Having kindled the fire, he said to Jane, "You and Mrs. Wiggins get some coffee and supper in short order, and have it ready when I come in," and he hastened out to care for his horses.  If the old woman was slow, she knew just how to make every motion effective, and a good supper was soon ready. "Why didn't you keep up a fire, Jane?" Holcroft asked. "She wouldn't let me.  She said how you must be taught a lesson," replied the girl, feeling that she must choose between two potentates, and deciding quickly in favor of the farmer.  She had been losing faith in her mother's wisdom a long time, and this night's experience had banished the last shred of it. Some rather bitter words rose to Holcroft's lips, but he restrained them.  He felt that he ought not to disparage the mother to the child.  As Mrs. Wiggins grew warm, and imbibed the generous coffee, her demeanor thawed perceptibly and she graciously vouchsafed the remark, "Ven you're hout late hag'in hi'll look hafter ye." Mrs. Mumpson had not been so far off as not to hear Jane's explanation, as the poor child found to her cost when she went up to bed. Chapter 10 A Night of Terror As poor, dazed, homeless Alida passed out into the street after the revelation that she was not a wife and never had been, she heard a voice say, "Well, Hanner wasn't long in bouncing the woman.  I guess we'd better go up now.  Ferguson will need a lesson that he won't soon forget."

as a minnow would shun a leviathan

Mrs. Wiggins took uncertain steps toward the rocking chair, and almost crushed it as she sat down. "Ye gives a body a cold velcome," she remarked, rubbing her eyes. Mrs. Mumpson had got out of her way as a minnow would shun a leviathan. "May I ask your name?" she gasped. "Viggins, Mrs. Viggins." "Oh, indeed!  You are a married woman?" "No, hi'm a vidder.  What's more, hi'm cold, and drippin', an' 'ungry.  Hi might 'a' better stayed at the poor-us than come to a place like this." "What!" almost screamed Mrs. Mumpson, "are you a pauper?" "Hi tell ye hi'm a vidder, an' good as you be, for hall he said," was the sullen reply. "To think that a respecterbly connected woman like me--" But for once Mrs. Mumpson found language inadequate.  Since Mrs. Wiggins occupied the rocking chair, she hardly knew what to do and plaintively declared, "I feel as if my whole nervous system was giving way." "No 'arm 'll be done hif hit does," remarked Mrs. Wiggins, who was not in an amiable mood. "This from the female I'm to superintend!" gasped the bewildered woman. Her equanimity was still further disturbed by the entrance of the farmer, who looked at the stove with a heavy frown. "Why in the name of common sense isn't there a fire?" he asked, "and supper on the table?  Couldn't you hear that it was raining and know we'd want some supper after a long, cold ride?" "Mr. Holcroft," began the widow, in some trepidation, "I don't approve--such irregular habits--"

to the parlor door and looked with

"Hello, there, Jane!" he shouted, "bring a light to the kitchen." "Jane, remain!" said Mrs. Mumpson, with an awful look. Holcroft stumbled through the dark kitchen to the parlor door and looked with surprise at the group before him,--Mrs. Mumpson apparently oblivious and rocking as if the chair was possessed, and the child crying in a corner. "Jane, didn't you hear me call for a light?" he asked a little sharply. Mrs. Mumpson rose with great dignity and began, "Mr. Holcroft, I wish to remonstrate--" "Oh, bother!  I've brought a woman to help you, and we're both wet through from this driving rain." "You've brought a strange female at this time of--" Holcroft's patience gave say, but he only said quietly, "You had better have a light in the kitchen within two minutes.  I warn you both.  I also wish some hot coffee." Mrs. Mumpson had no comprehension of a man who could be so quiet when he was angry, and she believed that she might impress him with a due sense of the enormity of his offense. "Mr. Holcroft, I scarcely feel that I can meet a girl who has no more sense of decorum than to--" But Jane, striking a match, revealed the fact that she was speaking to empty air. Mrs. Wiggins was at last so far aroused that she was helped from the wagon and came shivering and dripping toward the kitchen.  She stood a moment in the doorway and filled it, blinking confusedly at the light.  There was an absence of celerity in all Mrs. Wiggins' movements, and she was therefore slow in the matter of waking up.  Her aspect and proportions almost took away Mrs. Mumpson's breath.  Here certainly was much to superintend, much more than had been anticipated.  Mrs. Wiggins was undoubtedly a "peculiar female," as had been expected, but she was so elderly and monstrous that Mrs. Mumpson felt some embarrassment in her purpose to overwhelm Holcroft with a sense of the impropriety of his conduct.

to hear you talk

"What!  Will you compel me to chastise you?" "Well, then, I'll tell him it was all your doin's." "I shall tell him so myself.  I shall remonstrate with him.  The idea of his coming home alone at this time of night with an unknown female!" "One would think you was his aunt, to hear you talk," remarked the girl sullenly. "I am a respecterble woman and most respecterbly connected.  My character and antercedents render me irrerproachful.--This could not be said of a hussy, and a hussy he'll probably bring--some flighty, immerture female that will tax even MY patience to train." Another hour passed, and the frown on Mrs. Mumpson's brow grew positively awful. "To think," she muttered, "that a man whom I have deemed it my duty to marry should stay out so and under such peculiar circumstances.  He must have a lesson which he can never forget."  Then aloud, to Jane, "Kindle a fire on the parlor hearth and let this fire go out.  He must find us in the most respecterble room in the house--a room befitting my station." "I declare, mother, you aint got no sense at all!" exclaimed the child, exasperated beyond measure. "I'll teach you to use such unrerspectful language!" cried Mrs. Mumpson, darting from her chair like a hawk and pouncing upon the unhappy child. With ears tingling from a cuffing she could not soon forget, Jane lighted the parlor fire and sat down sniffling in the farthest corner. "There shall be only one mistress in this house," said Mrs. Mumpson, who had now reached the loftiest plane of virtuous indignation, "and its master shall learn that his practices reflect upon even me as well as himself." At last the sound of horses' feet were heard on the wet, oozy ground without.  The irate widow did not rise, but merely indicated her knowledge of Holcroft's arrival by rocking more rapidly.

I see the man now

The effect of the question was electrical. Far down at the lower end of the room one of the oldest tenants on the estate started to his feet, and led the rest with him in an instant. I see the man now, with his honest brown face and his iron-grey hair, mounted on the window-seat, waving his heavy riding-whip over his head, and leading the cheers. "There she is, alive and hearty--God bless her! Gi' it tongue, lads! Gi' it tongue!" The shout that answered him, reiterated again and again, was the sweetest music I ever heard. The labourers in the village and the boys from the school, assembled on the lawn, caught up the cheering and echoed it back on us. The farmers' wives clustered round Laura, and struggled which should be first to shake hands with her, and to implore her, with the tears pouring over their own cheeks, to bear up bravely and not to cry. She was so completely overwhelmed, that I was obliged to take her from them, and carry her to the door. There I gave her into Marian's care--Marian, who had never failed us yet, whose courageous self-control did not fail us now. Left by myself at the door, I invited all the persons present (after thanking them in Laura's name and mine) to follow me to the churchyard, and see the false inscription struck off the tombstone with their own eyes. They all left the house, and all joined the throng of villagers collected round the grave, where the statuary's man was waiting for us. In a breathless silence, the first sharp stroke of the steel sounded on the marble. Not a voice was heard--not a soul moved, till those three words, "Laura, Lady Glyde," had vanished from sight. Then there was a great heave of relief among the crowd, as if they felt that the last fetters of the conspiracy had been struck off Laura herself, and the assembly slowly withdrew. It was late in the day before the whole inscription was erased. One line only was afterwards engraved in its place: "Anne Catherick, July 25th, 1850." I returned to Limmeridge House early enough in the evening to take leave of Mr. Kyrle. He and his clerk, and the driver of the fly, went back to London by the night train. On their departure an insolent message was delivered to me from Mr. Fairlie--who had been carried from the room in a shattered condition, when the first outbreak of cheering answered my appeal to the tenantry.

in the fewest and the plainest words

The subject is dreadfully embarrassing. Please hear him, and don't make a noise!" With those words he slowly sank back again into the chair, and took refuge in his scented pocket-handkerchief. The disclosure of the conspiracy followed, after I had offered my preliminary explanation, first of all, in the fewest and the plainest words. I was there present (I informed my hearers) to declare, first, that my wife, then sitting by me, was the daughter of the late Mr. Philip Fairlie; secondly, to prove by positive facts, that the funeral which they had attended in Limmeridge churchyard was the funeral of another woman; thirdly, to give them a plain account of how it had all happened. Without further preface, I at once read the narrative of the conspiracy, describing it in clear outline, and dwelling only upon the pecuniary motive for it, in order to avoid complicating my statement by unnecessary reference to Sir Percival's secret. This done, I reminded my audience of the date on the inscription in the churchyard (the 25th), and confirmed its correctness by producing the certificate of death. I then read them Sir Percival's letter of the 25th, announcing his wife's intended journey from Hampshire to London on the 26th. I next showed that she had taken that journey, by the personal testimony of the driver of the fly, and I proved that she had performed it on the appointed day, by the order-book at the livery stables. Marian then added her own statement of the meeting between Laura and herself at the madhouse, and of her sister's escape. After which I closed the proceedings by informing the persons present of Sir Percival's death and of my marriage. Mr. Kyrle rose when I resumed my seat, and declared, as the legal adviser of the family, that my case was proved by the plainest evidence he had ever heard in his life. As he spoke those words, I put my arm round Laura, and raised her so that she was plainly visible to every one in the room. "Are you all of the same opinion?" I asked, advancing towards them a few steps, and pointing to my wife.

and doubting whether he would approve

I occupied the interval day at the farm in writing a plain narrative of the conspiracy, and in adding to it a statement of the practical contradiction which facts offered to the assertion of Laura's death. This I submitted to Mr. Kyrle before I read it the next day to the assembled tenants. We also arranged the form in which the evidence should be presented at the close of the reading. After these matters were settled, Mr. Kyrle endeavoured to turn the conversation next to Laura's affairs. Knowing, and desiring to know nothing of those affairs, and doubting whether he would approve, as a man of business, of my conduct in relation to my wife's life-interest in the legacy left to Madame Fosco, I begged Mr. Kyrle to excuse me if I abstained from discussing the subject. It was connected, as I could truly tell him, with those sorrows and troubles of the past which we never referred to among ourselves, and which we instinctively shrank from discussing with others. My last labour, as the evening approached, was to obtain "The Narrative of the Tombstone," by taking a copy of the false inscription on the grave before it was erased. The day came--the day when Laura once more entered the familiar breakfast-room at Lummeridge House. All the persons assembled rose from their seats as Marian and I led her in. A perceptible shock of surprise, an audible murmur of interest ran through them, at the sight of her face. Mr. Fairlie was present (by my express stipulation), with Mr. Kyrle by his side. His valet stood behind him with a smelling-bottle ready in one hand, and a white handkerchief, saturated with eau-de-Cologne, in the other. I opened the proceedings by publicly appealing to Mr. Fairlie to say whether I appeared there with his authority and under his express sanction. He extended an arm, on either side, to Mr. Kyrle and to his valet--was by them assisted to stand on his legs, and then expressed himself in these terms: "Allow me to present Mr. Hartright. I am as great an invalid as ever, and he is so very obliging as to speak for me.

and I arranged with her husband that

I left Marian to settle the question of accommodation with Mrs. Todd, as soon as the good woman had recovered from the bewilderment of hearing what our errand was in Cumberland, and I arranged with her husband that John Owen was to be committed to the ready hospitality of the farm-servants. These preliminaries completed, Mr. Kyrle and I set forth together for Limmeridge House. I cannot write at any length of our interview with Mr. Fairlie, for I cannot recall it to mind without feelings of impatience and contempt, which make the scene, even in remembrance only, utterly repulsive to me. I prefer to record simply that I carried my point. Mr. Fairlie attempted to treat us on his customary plan. We passed without notice his polite insolence at the outset of the interview. We heard without sympathy the protestations with which he tried next to persuade us that the disclosure of the conspiracy had overwhelmed him. He absolutely whined and whimpered at last like a fretful child. "How was he to know that his niece was alive when he was told that she was dead? He would welcome dear Laura with pleasure, if we would only allow him time to recover. Did we think he looked as if he wanted hurrying into his grave? No. Then, why hurry him?" He reiterated these remonstrances at every available opportunity, until I checked them once for all, by placing him firmly between two inevitable alternatives. I gave him his choice between doing his niece justice on my terms, or facing the consequence of a public assertion of her existence in a court of law. Mr. Kyrle, to whom he turned for help, told him plainly that he must decide the question then and there. Characteristically choosing the alternative which promised soonest to release him from all personal anxiety, he announced with a sudden outburst of energy, that he was not strong enough to bear any more bullying, and that we might do as we pleased. Mr. Kyrle and I at once went downstairs, and agreed upon a form of letter which was to be sent round to the tenants who had attended the false funeral, summoning them, in Mr. Fairlie's name, to assemble in Limmeridge House on the next day but one. An order referring to the same date was also written, directing a statuary in Carlisle to send a man to Limmeridge churchyard for the purpose of erasing an inscription--Mr. Kyrle, who had arranged to sleep in the house, undertaking that Mr. Fairlie should hear these letters read to him, and should sign them with his own hand.

I took the proprietor of the livery stables

There was no need that he should remember the time--the date was positively established by his master's order-book. I felt at once that the means were now in my power of striking down the whole conspiracy at a blow with the irresistible weapon of plain fact. Without a moment's hesitation, I took the proprietor of the livery stables aside and told him what the real importance was of the evidence of his order-book and the evidence of his driver. An arrangement to compensate him for the temporary loss of the man's services was easily made, and a copy of the entry in the book was taken by myself, and certified as true by the master's own signature. I left the livery stables, having settled that John Owen was to hold himself at my disposal for the next three days, or for a longer period if necessity required it. I now had in my possession all the papers that I wanted--the district registrar's own copy of the certificate of death, and Sir Percival's dated letter to the Count, being safe in my pocketbook. With this written evidence about me, and with the coachman's answers fresh in my memory, I next turned my steps, for the first time since the beginning of all my inquiries, in the direction of Mr. Kyrle's office. One of my objects in paying him this second visit was, necessarily, to tell him what I had done. The other was to warn him of my resolution to take my wife to Limmeridge the next morning, and to have her publicly received and recognised in her uncle's house. I left it to Mr. Kyrle to decide under these circumstances, and in Mr. Gilmore's absence, whether he was or was not bound, as the family solicitor, to be present on that occasion in the family interests. I will say nothing of Mr. Kyrle's amazement, or of the terms in which he expressed his opinion of my conduct from the first stage of the investigation to the last. It is only necessary to mention that he at once decided on accompanying us to Cumberland. We started the next morning by the early train. Laura, Marian, Mr. Kyrle, and myself in one carriage, and John Owen, with a clerk from Mr. Kyrle's office, occupying places in another. On reaching the Limmeridge station we went first to the farmhouse at Todd's Corner. It was my firm determination that Laura should not enter her uncle's house till she appeared there publicly recognised as his niece.

I was very much worried about you

    What happened afterwards Rodney did not need to inquire, for the two outstretched figures, stiffening in death, revealed it to him.     "They are the Dixon brothers, are they not?" asked Fred, turning to Caesar.     "Yes, massa."     "Then we are entitled to a thousand dollars each for their capture. I have never before shed blood, but I don't regret ending the career of these scoundrels."     Half an hour later the two outlaws were dead and Rodney and his friends were on their way back to Oreville. Chapter 35 The Rodney Mine     Rodney was received by Jefferson Pettigrew with open arms.     "Welcome home, boy!" he said. "I was very much worried about you."     "I was rather uneasy about myself," returned Rodney.     "Well, it's all over, and all's well that ends well. You are free and there has been no money paid out. Fred and Otto have done a good thing in ridding the world of the notorious Dixon brothers. They will be well paid, for I understand there is a standing reward of one thousand dollars for each of them dead or alive. I don't know but you ought to have a share of this, for it was through you that the outlaws were trapped."     "No, Mr. Pettigrew, they are welcome to the reward. If I am not mistaken I shall make a good deal more out of it than they."     "What do you mean?"     Upon this Rodney told the story of what he had seen in the cavern.     "When I said I, I meant we, Mr. Pettigrew. I think if the gold there is as plentiful as I think it is we shall do well to commence working it."     "It is yours, Rodney, by right of first discovery."     "I prefer that you should share it with me."

He shall do you no harm

    "Don't kill me, massa!" pleaded Caesar in tones of piteous entreaty.     "I don't know," answered Fred. "That depends on yourself. If you obey us strictly we will spare you."     "Try me, massa!"     "You black hound!" said Roderick hoarsely. "If I were not disabled I'd kill you myself."     Here was a new danger for poor Caesar, for he knew Roderick's fierce temper.     "Don't let him kill me!" he exclaimed, affrighted.     "He shall do you no harm. Will you obey me?"     "Tell me what you want, massa."     "Is the boy these men captured inside?"     "Yes, massa."     "Open the cave, then. We want him."     "Don't do it," said Roderick, but Caesar saw at a glance that his old master, of whom he stood in wholesome fear, was unable to harm him, and he proceeded to unlock the door.     "Go and call the boy!" said Fred.     Caesar disappeared within the cavern, and soon emerged with Rodney following him.     "Are you unhurt?" asked Fred anxiously.     "Yes, and overjoyed to see you. How came you here?"     "We followed the nigger from Oreville."

None of your business

    "They must have followed you from Oreville. Hello, you two!" he added striding towards the miners. "What do you want here?"     Fred and Otto had accomplished their object in ascertaining the place where Rodney was confined, and no longer cared for concealment.     "None of your business!" retorted Fred independently. "The place is as free to us as to you."     "Are you spies?"     "I don't intend to answer any of your questions."     "Clear out of here!" commanded Roderick in a tone of authority.     "Suppose we don't?"     Roderick was a man of quick temper, and had never been in the habit of curbing it. He was provoked by the independent tone of the speaker, and without pausing to think of the imprudence of his actions, he raised his rifle and pointing at Fred shot him in the left arm.     The two miners were both armed, and were not slow in accepting the challenge. Simultaneously they raised their rifles and fired at the two men. The result was that both fell seriously wounded and Caesar set up a howl of dismay, not so much for his masters as from alarm for himself.     Fred and Otto came forward, and stood looking down upon the outlaws, who were in the agonies of death.     "It was our lives or theirs," said Fred coolly, for he had been long enough in Montana to become used to scenes of bloodshed.     "Yes," answered Otto. "I think these two men are the notorious Dixon brothers who are credited with a large number of murders. The country will be well rid of them."     Roderick turned his glazing eyes upon the tall miner. "I wish I had killed you," he muttered.     "No doubt you do. It wouldn't have been your first murder."

You'll get a flogging for this

    "Here now, you black imp! where is the horse?" demanded Roderick.     "I done lost him, massa."     "Lost him? You'll get a flogging for this, unless you bring good news. Did you see Jefferson Pettigrew?"     "Yes, massa."     "Did he give you any money?"     "No; he gave me this letter."     Roderick snatched it from his hand, and showed it to John.     "It seems satisfactory," he said. "Now how did you lose the horse?"     Caesar told him.     "You didn't fasten him tight."     "Beg your pardon, massa, but I took good care of that."     "Well, he's gone; was probably stolen. That is unfortunate; however you may not have been to blame."     Luckily for Caesar the letter which he brought was considered satisfactory, and this palliated his fault in losing the horse.     The country was so uneven that the two outlaws did not observe that they were followed, until they came to the entrance of the cave. Then, before opening the door, John looked round and caught sight of Fred and Otto eying them from a little distance.     He instantly took alarm.     "Look," he said, "we are followed. Look behind you!"     His brother turned and came to the same conclusion.     "Caesar," said Roderick, "did you ever see those men before?"     "No, massa."

about had come upon the animal

    When Caesar reached the place where he had tethered the horse, he was grievously disappointed at not finding him. One of the miners in roaming about had come upon the animal, and knowing him to be Jefferson Pettigrew's property, untied him and rode him back to Oreville.     The dwarf threw up his hands in dismay.     "The horse is gone!" he said in his deep bass voice, "and now I must walk back, ten long miles, and get a flogging at the end for losing time. It's hard luck," he groaned.     The loss was fortunate for Fred and Otto who would otherwise have found it hard to keep up with the dwarf.     Caesar breathed a deep sigh, and then started on his wearisome journey. Had the ground been even it would have troubled him less, but there was a steep upward grade, and his short legs were soon weary. Not so with his pursuers, both of whom were long limbed and athletic.     We will go back now to the cave and the captors of Rodney. They waited long and impatiently for the return of their messenger. Having no knowledge of the loss of the horse, they could not understand what detained Caesar.     "Do you think the rascal has played us false?" said Roderick.     "He would be afraid to."     "This man Pettigrew might try to bribe him. It would be cheaper than to pay five thousand dollars."     "He wouldn't dare. He knows what would happen to him," said John grimly.     "Then why should he be so long?"     "That I can't tell."     "Suppose we go out to meet him. I begin to feel anxious lest we have trusted him too far."     "I am with you!"     The two outlaws took the path which led to Oreville, and walked two miles before they discovered Caesar coming towards them at a slow and melancholy gait.     "There he is, and on foot! What does it mean?"     "He will tell us."

I want to see how people will receive me

    "You see we Western miners don't care much for style, perhaps not enough. Still I probably shall buy a suit or two, but not till I have made my visit home. I want to see how people will receive me, when they think I haven't got much money. I shall own up to about five hundred dollars, but that isn't enough to dazzle people even in a small country village."     "I am wiling to help you in any way you wish, Mr. Pettigrew."     "Then I think we shall get some amusement out of it. I shall represent you as worth about a hundred thousand dollars."     "I wish I were."     "Very likely you will be some time if you go out to Montana with me."     "How large a place is Burton?"     "It has not quite a thousand inhabitants. It is set among the hills, and has but one rich man, Lemuel Sheldon, who is worth perhaps fifty thousand dollars, but put on the airs of a millionaire."     "You are as rich as he, then."     "Yes, and shall soon be richer. However, I don't want him to know it. It is he who holds the mortgage on my uncle's farm."     "Do you know how large the mortgage is?"     "It is twelve hundred dollars. I shall borrow the money of you to pay it."     "I understand," said Rodney, smiling.

I was always in for a good time

    "It may seem strange, but I'll explain -- I want to learn who are my friends and who are not. I am afraid I wasn't very highly thought of when I left Burton. I was considered rather shiftless.     "I was always in for a good time, and never saved a cent. Everybody predicted that I would fail, and I expect most wanted me to fail. There were two or three, including my uncle, aunt and the friend who lent me money, who wished me well.     "I mustn't forget to mention the old minister who baptized me when I was an infant. The good old man has been preaching thirty or forty years on a salary of four hundred dollars, and has had to run a small farm to make both ends meet. He believed in me and gave me good advice. Outside of these I don't remember any one who felt an interest in Jefferson Pettigrew."     "You will have the satisfaction of letting them see that they did not do you justice."     "Yes, but I may not tell them -- that is none except my true friends. If I did, they would hover round me and want to borrow money, or get me to take them out West with me. So I have hit upon a plan. I shall want to use money, but I will pretend it is yours."     Rodney opened his eyes in surprise.     "I will pass you off as a rich friend from New York, who feels an interest in me and is willing to help me."     Rodney smiled.     "I don't know if I can look the character," he said.     "Oh yes you can. You are nicely dressed, while I am hardly any better dressed than when I left Burton."     "I have wondered why you didn't buy some new clothes when you were able to afford it."

with a small farm of his own

    "I hope it contained good news."     "On the contrary it contained bad news. My parents are dead, but I have an old uncle and aunt living. When I left Burton he was comfortably fixed, with a small farm of his own, and two thousand dollars in bank. Now I hear that he is in trouble. He has lost money, and a knavish neighbor has threatened to foreclose a mortgage on the farm and turn out the old people to die or go to the poorhouse."     "Is the mortgage a large one?"     "It is much less than the value of the farm, but ready money is scarce in the town, and that old Sheldon calculates upon. Now I think of going to Burton to look up the matter."     "You must save your uncle, if you can, Mr. Pettigrew."     "I can and I will. I shall start for Boston this afternoon by the Fall River boat and I want you to go with me."     "I should enjoy the journey, Mr. Pettigrew."     "Then it is settled. Go home and pack your gripsack. You may be gone three or four days." Chapter 24 A Change Of Scene     "Now," said Mr. Pettigrew, when they were sitting side by side on the upper deck of the Puritan, the magnificent steamer on the Fall River line. "I want you to consent to a little plan that will mystify my old friends and neighbors."     "What is it, Mr. Pettigrew?"     "I have never written home about my good fortune; so far as they know I am no better off than when I went away."     "I don't think I could have concealed my success."

I had a box of jewelry with me

    "I don't require any introduction to you, Mr. Wheeler," said Rodney.     "Where have I met you before?" asked Wheeler abruptly.     "In the cars. I had a box of jewelry with me," answered Rodney significantly.     Louis Wheeler changed color. Now he remembered Rodney, and he was satisfied that he owed to him the coolness with which the Western man had treated him.     "I remember you had," he said spitefully, "but I don't know how you came by it."     "It isn't necessary that you should know. I remember I had considerable difficulty in getting it out of your hands."     "Mr. Pettigrew," said Wheeler angrily, "I feel interested in you, and I want to warn you against the boy who is with you. He is a dangerous companion."     "I dare say you are right," said Pettigrew in a quizzical tone. "I shall look after him sharply, and I thank you for your kind and considerate warning. I don't care to take up any more of your valuable time. Rodney, let us be going."     "It must have been the kid that exposed me," muttered Wheeler, as he watched the two go down the street. "I will get even with him some time. That man would have been good for a thousand dollars to me if I had not been interfered with."     "You have been warned against me, Mr. Pettigrew," said Rodney, laughing. "Mr. Wheeler has really been very unkind in interfering with my plans."     "I shan't borrow any trouble, or lie awake nights thinking about it, Rodney. I don't care to see or think of that rascal again."     The week passed, and the arrangement between Mr. Pettigrew and Rodney continued to their mutual satisfaction. One morning, when Rodney came to the Continental as usual, his new friend said: "I received a letter last evening from my old home in Vermont."

like to give up his intended victim

    "I'll pay you that and give you your meals. In return I want you to keep me company and go about with me."     "I shall not be apt to refuse such an offer as that, Mr. Pettigrew, but are you sure you prefer me to Mr. Wheeler?" laughed Rodney.     "Wheeler be -- blessed!" returned the miner.     "How long are you going to stay in New York?"     "About two weeks. Then I shall go back to Montana and take you with me."     "Thank you. There is nothing I should like better."     Two days later, as the two were walking along Broadway, they met Mr. Wheeler. The latter instantly recognized his friend from Montana, and scrutinized closely his young companion.     Rodney's face looked strangely familiar to him, but somehow he could not recollect when or under what circumstances he had met him. He did not, however, like to give up his intended victim, but had the effrontery to address the man from Montana.     "I hope you are well, Mr. Pettigrew."     "Thank you, I am very well."     "I hope you are enjoying yourself. I should be glad to show you the sights. Have you been to Grants Tomb?"     "Not yet."     "I should like to take you there."     "Thank you, but I have a competent guide."     "Won't you introduce me to the young gentleman?"

It seemed ungrateful

We began to see that we were old and cynical; we liked ease and the agreeable rambling of the human mind about this and the other subject; we did not want to disgrace our native land by messing an eight, or toiling pitifully in the wake of the champion canoeist. In short, we had recourse to flight. It seemed ungrateful, but we tried to make that good on a card loaded with sincere compliments. And indeed it was no time for scruples; we seemed to feel the hot breath of the champion on our necks. Chapter 4 At Maubeuge Partly from the terror we had of our good friends the Royal Nauticals, partly from the fact that there were no fewer than fifty-five locks between Brussels and Charleroi, we concluded that we should travel by train across the frontier, boats and all. Fifty-five locks in a day's journey was pretty well tantamount to trudging the whole distance on foot, with the canoes upon our shoulders, an object of astonishment to the trees on the canal side, and of honest derision to all right-thinking children. To pass the frontier, even in a train, is a difficult matter for the Arethusa. He is somehow or other a marked man for the official eye. Wherever he journeys, there are the officers gathered together. Treaties are solemnly signed, foreign ministers, ambassadors, and consuls sit throned in state from China to Peru, and the Union Jack flutters on all the winds of heaven. Under these safeguards, portly clergymen, school-mistresses, gentlemen in grey tweed suits, and all the ruck and rabble of British touristry pour unhindered, Murray in hand, over the railways of the Continent, and yet the slim person of the Arethusa is taken in the meshes, while these great fish go on their way rejoicing. If he travels without a passport, he is cast, without any figure about the matter, into noisome dungeons: if his papers are in order, he is suffered to go his way indeed, but not until he has been humiliated by a general incredulity. He is a born British subject, yet he has never succeeded in persuading a single official of his nationality. He flatters himself he is indifferent honest; yet he is rarely taken for anything better than a spy, and there is no absurd and disreputable means of livelihood but has been attributed to him in some heat of official or popular distrust. . . . For the life of me I cannot understand it.

but he had no objection to

When we had changed our wet clothes and drunk a glass of pale ale to the Club's prosperity, one of their number escorted us to an hotel. He would not join us at our dinner, but he had no objection to a glass of wine. Enthusiasm is very wearing; and I begin to understand why prophets were unpopular in Judaea, where they were best known. For three stricken hours did this excellent young man sit beside us to dilate on boats and boat-races; and before he left, he was kind enough to order our bedroom candles. We endeavoured now and again to change the subject; but the diversion did not last a moment: the Royal Nautical Sportsman bridled, shied, answered the question, and then breasted once more into the swelling tide of his subject. I call it his subject; but I think it was he who was subjected. The Arethusa, who holds all racing as a creature of the devil, found himself in a pitiful dilemma. He durst not own his ignorance for the honour of Old England, and spoke away about English clubs and English oarsmen whose fame had never before come to his ears. Several times, and, once above all, on the question of sliding-seats, he was within an ace of exposure. As for the Cigarette, who has rowed races in the heat of his blood, but now disowns these slips of his wanton youth, his case was still more desperate; for the Royal Nautical proposed that he should take an oar in one of their eights on the morrow, to compare the English with the Belgian stroke. I could see my friend perspiring in his chair whenever that particular topic came up. And there was yet another proposal which had the same effect on both of us. It appeared that the champion canoeist of Europe (as well as most other champions) was a Royal Nautical Sportsman. And if we would only wait until the Sunday, this infernal paddler would be so condescending as to accompany us on our next stage. Neither of us had the least desire to drive the coursers of the sun against Apollo. When the young man was gone, we countermanded our candles, and ordered some brandy and water. The great billows had gone over our head. The Royal Nautical Sportsmen were as nice young fellows as a man would wish to see, but they were a trifle too young and a thought too nautical for us.

what is interesting and what is dull

And these Royal Nautical Sportsmen had the distinction still quite legible in their hearts. They had still those clean perceptions of what is nice and nasty, what is interesting and what is dull, which envious old gentlemen refer to as illusions. The nightmare illusion of middle age, the bear's hug of custom gradually squeezing the life out of a man's soul, had not yet begun for these happy-starred young Belgians. They still knew that the interest they took in their business was a trifling affair compared to their spontaneous, long-suffering affection for nautical sports. To know what you prefer, instead of humbly saying Amen to what the world tells you you ought to prefer, is to have kept your soul alive. Such a man may be generous; he may be honest in something more than the commercial sense; he may love his friends with an elective, personal sympathy, and not accept them as an adjunct of the station to which he has been called. He may be a man, in short, acting on his own instincts, keeping in his own shape that God made him in; and not a mere crank in the social engine-house, welded on principles that he does not understand, and for purposes that he does not care for. For will any one dare to tell me that business is more entertaining than fooling among boats? He must have never seen a boat, or never seen an office, who says so. And for certain the one is a great deal better for the health. There should be nothing so much a man's business as his amusements. Nothing but money-grubbing can be put forward to the contrary; no one but Mammon, the least erected spirit that fell From Heaven, durst risk a word in answer. It is but a lying cant that would represent the merchant and the banker as people disinterestedly toiling for mankind, and then most useful when they are most absorbed in their transactions; for the man is more important than his services. And when my Royal Nautical Sportsman shall have so far fallen from his hopeful youth that he cannot pluck up an enthusiasm over anything but his ledger, I venture to doubt whether he will be near so nice a fellow, and whether he would welcome, with so good a grace, a couple of drenched Englishmen paddling into Brussels in the dusk.

what religion knits people so

I wonder if French Huguenots were as cordially greeted by English Protestants when they came across the Channel out of great tribulation. But after all, what religion knits people so closely as a common sport? The canoes were carried into the boat-house; they were washed down for us by the Club servants, the sails were hung out to dry, and everything made as snug and tidy as a picture. And in the meanwhile we were led upstairs by our new-found brethren, for so more than one of them stated the relationship, and made free of their lavatory. This one lent us soap, that one a towel, a third and fourth helped us to undo our bags. And all the time such questions, such assurances of respect and sympathy! I declare I never knew what glory was before. 'Yes, yes, the Royal Sport Nautique is the oldest club in Belgium.' 'We number two hundred.' 'We'--this is not a substantive speech, but an abstract of many speeches, the impression left upon my mind after a great deal of talk; and very youthful, pleasant, natural, and patriotic it seems to me to be--'We have gained all races, except those where we were cheated by the French.' 'You must leave all your wet things to be dried.' 'O! entre freres! In any boat-house in England we should find the same.' (I cordially hope they might.) 'En Angleterre, vous employez des sliding-seats, n'est-ce pas?' 'We are all employed in commerce during the day; but in the evening, voyez-vous, nous sommes serieux.' These were the words. They were all employed over the frivolous mercantile concerns of Belgium during the day; but in the evening they found some hours for the serious concerns of life. I may have a wrong idea of wisdom, but I think that was a very wise remark. People connected with literature and philosophy are busy all their days in getting rid of second-hand notions and false standards. It is their profession, in the sweat of their brows, by dogged thinking, to recover their old fresh view of life, and distinguish what they really and originally like, from what they have only learned to tolerate perforce.

in the rain and the deepening dusk to

Beautiful country houses, with clocks and long lines of shuttered windows, and fine old trees standing in groves and avenues, gave a rich and sombre aspect in the rain and the deepening dusk to the shores of the canal. I seem to have seen something of the same effect in engravings: opulent landscapes, deserted and overhung with the passage of storm. And throughout we had the escort of a hooded cart, which trotted shabbily along the tow-path, and kept at an almost uniform distance in our wake. Chapter 3 The Royal Sport Nautique The rain took off near Laeken. But the sun was already down; the air was chill; and we had scarcely a dry stitch between the pair of us. Nay, now we found ourselves near the end of the Allee Verte, and on the very threshold of Brussels, we were confronted by a serious difficulty. The shores were closely lined by canal boats waiting their turn at the lock. Nowhere was there any convenient landing-place; nowhere so much as a stable-yard to leave the canoes in for the night. We scrambled ashore and entered an estaminet where some sorry fellows were drinking with the landlord. The landlord was pretty round with us; he knew of no coach-house or stable-yard, nothing of the sort; and seeing we had come with no mind to drink, he did not conceal his impatience to be rid of us. One of the sorry fellows came to the rescue. Somewhere in the corner of the basin there was a slip, he informed us, and something else besides, not very clearly defined by him, but hopefully construed by his hearers. Sure enough there was the slip in the corner of the basin; and at the top of it two nice-looking lads in boating clothes. The Arethusa addressed himself to these. One of them said there would be no difficulty about a night's lodging for our boats; and the other, taking a cigarette from his lips, inquired if they were made by Searle and Son. The name was quite an introduction. Half-a- dozen other young men came out of a boat-house bearing the superscription ROYAL SPORT NAUTIQUE, and joined in the talk. They were all very polite, voluble, and enthusiastic; and their discourse was interlarded with English boating terms, and the names of English boat-builders and English clubs. I do not know, to my shame, any spot in my native land where I should have been so warmly received by the same number of people. We were English boating-men, and the Belgian boating-men fell upon our necks.