They were leaving the “Cross Pipes” one evening together, and had passed to the outer door; and Monjoy, who was a couple of paces in front, held open the heavy door (which else would have swung to again) in such a manner that Jeremy Cope was compelled to walk under his outstretched arm. It was dark in the entry, but Monjoy heard a little sound as of teeth gritted together, and the exciseman passed under his arm with a foot or so to spare. On the steps he turned to Monjoy. “That--that, Mr. Monjoy,” he stammered, “that was a little gratuitous, was it not? I think you will agree, Mr. Monjoy----” “Eh?” said Monjoy, and suddenly he took his meaning. “Oh, the devil!--Nay, hang me, Cope, if I meant to pain you!” “You must pardon me, Mr. Monjoy, if I suggest that you, as compared with most men, are as exceptional as I. I--I--I----” “Nay, you shall not say another word about it. I was to blame----” Cope sniggered. “There, there, there! Perhaps I was foolish to notice it; let it pass, Mr. Monjoy----” And, as the dwarf became conciliatory again, and seemed to dread nothing so much as that the other should renew his apologies, it was odd that what in another man might have been dignity seemed, somehow, something less in him. At the supper, to which John Emmason, as a magistrate, had been in courtesy bound to invite the new supervisor, there were present, besides three of the Executive (Raikes being left out), John Leedes (a fellow magistrate), and Hemstead, the solicitor. This Emmason was a long-nosed, horse-faced, pompous spoken man, who delivered his opinions with his eyes all but closed, and, when interrupted, waited and resumed again at his own last word. The supper was remarkable on the official, rather than on the social side, and after supper the conversation turned to the subject of certain transferences recently made from the Customs to the Excise. In this connection it would have been neither feasible nor advisable to avoid mention of the proclamation on the pillar of the Piece Hall; and on this Emmason delivered himself sententiously. “For the two foolish fellows now in York,” he pronounced, “although the warrant for their arrest was not of my making out----” “Parker, of Ford, made it,” Hemstead interrupted; “they were seized at the ‘Sun Inn’----” “--of my making out, yet I doubt if a conviction will be obtained. Misguided fellows!--Taken in most compromising circumstances, Mr. Cope. But the solicitor to His Majesty’s Mint informs me ... hum! hum!... I can acquaint you with all you may desire to know of that case, Mr. Cope.” “Thank you, thank you, thank you--silly, silly fellows!” Cope murmured. “Most nefarious!” Emmason assented. “I desire that you will not hesitate to come to me in your need. In regard, now, to any possible line of action you might elect to pursue....”