Master Inch closed one eye, and with the other keenly watched Master Mittachip’s movements. The attorney turned the half-crown over in his lean hand once or twice, then he made as if he would put it back in his pocket. This decided the beadle. "I’ll go and reconnoitre-ate," he said, "and perhaps I can despatch a menial to impart to the Squire, Sir Humphrey’s wishes and cognomen." Thus the majestic beadle felt that his dignity had not been impaired. With a magnificent turn of his portly person, and an imposing flourish of his wand of office, he disappeared within the precincts of the Court. Master Mittachip slipped the half-crown back in his pocket, and did not wait for the beadle’s return. He was quite satisfied that Sir Humphrey’s wishes would be acceded to. He turned his back on the Court House and slowly crossed the green. Opposite to him was the Royal George, where he and Master Duffy had put up for the night. In the small hours of the morning he had been aroused from peaceful slumbers by a great disturbance at the inn. Sir Humphrey Challoner, booted and spurred, but alone, on foot, and covered with mud, was peremptorily demanding admittance. Since then Master Mittachip had had an interview with his employer, wherein his Honour had expressed the desire to speak with Squire West after he, himself, had partaken of late breakfast. That interview had been a very brief one, but it had sufficed to show to the lean attorney that Sir Humphrey’s temper was none of the best this morning. His Honour had desired Master Mittachip’s presence again, and the latter was now making his way slowly back to the Royal George, his knees quaking under him, his throat dry, and his tongue parched with terror. Sir Humphrey Challoner was not pleasant to deal with when his temper was up. The attorney found his Honour installed at breakfast in the private parlour of the inn, and consuming large mugs full of ale and several rashers of fried bacon. "Well?" queried Sir Humphrey, impatiently, as soon as the attorney’s lean, bird-like face appeared in the doorway. "I sent word to his Honour, Squire West," explained the latter, coming forward timidly, "saying that you would wish to see him at the Court House in half an hour. And, unless your Honour would wish me to speak to the Squire for you..." "No!" rejoined his Honour, curtly. "’Sdeath! don’t stand there fidgeting before me," he added. "Sit down!" Master Mittachip meekly obeyed. He selected the straightest chair in the room, placed it as far away from his Honour as he could, and sat down on the extreme edge of it. "Well! you lean-faced coward," began his Honour, whose temper did not seem to have improved after his substantial breakfast, "you allowed yourself to be robbed of my money last night, eh?"