The man came a step or two nearer. His hat was in his hand, and his body was obsequiously bent, but there was no discomposure in his lifeless voice and manner. “I stayed to explain my presence in the house, sir,” he said. “I am a lover of reading, and, knowing my weakness, your overseer, who keeps the keys of the house, has been so good as to let me, from time to time, come here to this room to mingle in more delectable company than I can choose without these walls. Your Honor doubtless remembers yonder goodly assemblage?” He motioned with his hand toward a half-opened door, showing a closet lined with well-filled bookshelves. “I remember,” replied Haward dryly. “So you come to my room alone at night, and occupy yourself in reading? And when you are wearied you refresh yourself with my wine?” As he spoke he clinked together the bottle and glass that stood beside the books. “I plead guilty to the wine,” answered the intruder, as lifelessly as ever, “but it is my only theft. I found the bottle below, and did not think it would be missed. I trust that your Honor does not grudge it to a poor devil who tastes Burgundy somewhat seldomer than does your Worship. And my being in the house is pure innocence. Your overseer knew that I would neither make nor meddle with aught but the books, or he would not have given me the key to the little door, which I now restore to your Honor’s keeping.” He advanced, and deposited upon the table a large key. “What is your name?” demanded Haward, leaning back in his chair. “Bartholomew Paris, sir. I keep the school down by the swamp, where I impart to fifteen or twenty of the youth of these parts the rudiments of the ancient and modern tongues, mathematics, geography, fortifications, navigation, philosophy”-- Haward yawned, and the schoolmaster broke the thread of his discourse. “I weary you, sir,” he said. “I will, with your permission, take my departure. May I make so bold as to beg your Honor that you will not mention to the gentlemen hereabouts the small matter of this bottle of wine? I would wish not to be prejudiced in the eyes of my patrons and scholars.” “I will think of it,” Haward replied. “Come and take your snuffbox--if it be yours--from the book where you have left it.” “It is mine,” said the man. “A present from the godly minister of this parish.” As he spoke he put out his hand to take the snuffbox. Haward leaned forward, seized the hand, and, bending back the fingers, exposed the palm to the light of the candles upon the table. “The other, if you please,” he commanded. For a second--no longer--a wicked soul looked blackly out of the face to which he had raised his eyes. Then the window shut, and the wall was blank again. Without any change in his listless demeanor, the schoolmaster laid his left hand, palm out, beside his right. “Humph!” exclaimed Haward. “So you have stolen before to-night? The marks are old. When were you branded, and where?”