"What do you want here, madam? You have no business with me! and I told my clerks to say I was not in whenever you came here!" glaring round at the solitary embryo sheepskin, who quaked in his shoes; the other grisly clerk, whose hair had the semblance of the fretful porcupine, was not there--probably he was at lunch, and would "return in ten minutes," as they all say. Miss Kingscott was not staggered by the lawyer's facer; she was far too much wrapt up in her purpose to take notice of any rebuff, as she had had many already. She went in straight to her point, gasping with excitement as she spoke. "He's found! He's found!" she exclaimed. "Who's found? What do you mean, madam?" said Mr Trump, who, thinking the governess was going to make a dash at him, cautiously retired behind the doctor: the latter uttering his usual, "God bless my soul!" was staring at his quondam flame in astonishment. "He's caught at last! Caught at last!" continued the governess hysterically, waving her arms frantically all the while. "Who's found? Who's caught at last? Really, I do not comprehend you, madam; what is it to me whom you find or catch?" "Bless my soul!" ejaculated the doctor, hopelessly bewildered. "Fool!" exclaimed Miss Kingscott, in cutting bitterness--so sharp and short was her tone, that the word sounded like a pistol-shot. "Fool! Markworth is caught at last! Caught at last, do you hear? And I have caught him!" Mr Trump and the doctor stared at one another in blank surprise; the former recovered himself first. "Whew!" he whistled, between his closed teeth. "Oh, that's it, is it! Well, and supposing he is caught, and that you have caught him, what is that to me?" It was the governess's turn to be now surprised; she stared at Mr Trump in bewilderment. "Why--I thought--what do you mean?" she stammered. "I mean what I say, madam. What is it to me?" said the lawyer, coolly. "Bless my soul!" still ejaculated the doctor, in that stage of astonishment where one is described as "looking nine ways for Sunday." Miss Kingscott now recovered herself. "You must be mad, I think," she said, in her cold, grating voice. "Why, it is everything to you, as it is to me! Markworth is captured, do you hear? He is now arrested for debt; but the charge of murder has to be brought against him, and it is your place to accuse him. I have just left him," she went on hurriedly, dashing out her short, sharp sentences. "He knows that he can expect no mercy from me, or anyone else! The law must now do its part! A warrant must be at once obtained! If you will not come forward and do your duty, I will! The blood of Susan Hartshorne cries out aloud for vengeance!" "Bless my soul!" said the doctor, aghast at the change in the bashful, timid governess of his former acquaintance, and staring with widening eyes at the stern Medea before him. "Bless my soul! Trump, why she does not know!"