It was a beautiful night, light with the shimmering of more stars than I think I had ever seen before. There weren’t many dwellings in the neighborhood at that period, and Central Park was more like nature intended it than now. All together, the night, with its calmness, was of the kind that should bring forth man’s deepest gratitude for having been given being, but I was too much concerned with my planning for liberty unquestioned, to give way to the sentiment. I had left my buggy in charge of Fisher and walked a few rods to a hill thickly covered with trees and a small growth of bushes, where I was in waiting only a minute, or such a matter, when I heard a great clattering of horses’ hoofs. I needed no better indication that my visitors were coming. Five minutes later McGurk swung his team into the park and dashed up to the spot where in the shadows I stood. The horses were steaming and their flanks dripping with foam. McGurk had put them through. Before he could alight from the box, ex-Judge Stuart, followed by Colonel Whiteley, sprang from the carriage. He was delivering himself of some very strong language, in which there was interspersed much profanity, and the Secret Service chief was not leaving all the swearing to the ex-judge. As I stepped out of the shadows and greeted them with a “Good evening, gentlemen,” Stuart, bristling with anger, exclaimed:-- “Do you take us for thieves, Miles? Are we blacklegs, liars, or what not?” “Be calm, judge,” said I, soothingly, but scarcely able to restrain laughter. I was fully aroused to the cause of the profanity. They had been given a much longer ride than they anticipated. Besides, the ex-judge didn’t like my distrust of his influence over Colonel Whiteley. “Damn it,” said Stuart, “why didn’t you drive us to Yonkers and done with it? Do you think that I’ve got too much time on my hands?” “Never mind, gentlemen,” I replied, in a most conciliatory manner; “you’re here with your bones whole, and I’m ready for business. Of course, when you examine the case from my end of it, you’ll not blame me for being cautious, I know.” “When I give my word to a man, it’s better ’n my bond,” said Colonel Whiteley; “and this man of yours drove us to hades and back, so it seemed.” “Yes, and I wasn’t certain but that he’d shake my poor bones apart, at times, with his infernal square turns about corners. Anything follow him? Why, the devil with his cloven hoofs and wings thrown in couldn’t have kept us in sight,” growled Stuart. “A drink will smooth you out, judge,” laughed I; “and we can’t get it here, so let’s go to Stetson’s.” I directed Gus Fisher to take my buggy to the stables, and McGurk drove us to the restaurant in Central Park. There we talked business over a few dainties and a bottle of wine. “By the way, Miles,” Colonel Whiteley was saying, “when did you get to town?” “About a week ago, on the Anchor Liner _Europa_.” “And you were in Scotland all the time?” he continued.