Mr. Wittingham was in a state of most distressing perplexity. His fears were a powder magazine, Ned Hayward's smile was a spark, and there was a terrible explosion in his chest, which had nearly blown the window out. "I--I--you see, Bacon," he whispered to the clerk, "I thought it was all nonsense, I was sure it was all nonense--you may see by the fellow's manner that it is so--Who'd attend to such stuff?" "I don't know, Sir," said the clerk, "magistrates are bound to take informations of felonies tendered on oath; but we shall soon see who he is; we'll swear him," and taking up a paper from the table he began to write, lifting up his head after a moment and inquiring, "What is your name and profession?" "My name is Edward Hayward," answered our friend, "late captain in His Majesty's 40th regiment, now unattached." Mr. Wittingham's face grew blanker and blanker. Yamen's own could not have looked a more russetty brown. He did not know how to interfere with the clerk, or how to proceed himself; but at length, after sundry hums and haws, he said, "I think we had better hear the whole story first, and then take down the deposition if we should find it necessary. If Mrs. Clifford was robbed, or attempted to be robbed, why the devil doesn't Mrs. Clifford come to give me information herself? I see no reason why we should suffer such accounts to be gone into by deputy. The offence was against Mrs. Clifford, and we shall always be ready to balance." "The offence was against the law of the land, Sir," said Mr. Beauchamp, stepping forward, "and we who witnessed the offence, and prevented it from being carried further, now come forward to demand that interference of justice which cannot be refused, without great danger to those who deny it." "Well, well," said Mr. Wittingham, "I am not going to deny it; let us hear your story, and as you are one of the informers, be so good as to favour us with your name, profession, &c." "My name, Sir, is Beauchamp," replied the gentleman he addressed, "profession, I am sorry to say, I have none." "Ah," said the magistrate drily, but the clerk whispered sharply in his ear: "He has two thousand pounds in the bank, paid in the day before yesterday. Jenkins told me last night at the Free and Easy, so it's all a mistake about his being--you know what."