“There’s a difference of opinion ’bout who the prisoner belongs to,” said the constable, addressing the squire; “and we agreed to leave the matter to you. When I reached the house, these gentlemen already had him in hand, and they claim he’s an escaped convict, and that they’ve tracked him from the prison right straight to Bowerton.” The prisoner gave the officers a very wicked look, while these officials produced their warrants and handed them to the justice for inspection. Guzzy seemed to himself to grow big with accumulating importance. “The officers seem to be duly authorized,” said the squire, after a long and minute examination of their papers; “but they should identify the prisoner as the escaped convict for whom they are searching.” “Here’s a description,” said one of the officers, “in an advertisement: ‘Escaped from the Penitentiary, on the —th instant, William Beigh, _alias_ Bay Billy, _alias_ Handsome; age, twenty-eight; height, five feet ten; complexion dark, hair black, eyes dark brown, mole on left cheek; general appearance handsome, manly, and intelligent. A skillful and dangerous burglar. Sentenced in 1866 to five years’ imprisonment—two years yet to serve.’ That,” continued the officer, “describes him to a dot; and, if there’s any further doubt, look here!” As he spoke, he unclasped a cloak which the prisoner wore, and disclosed the striped uniform of the prison. “There seems no reasonable doubt in this case; and the prisoner will have to go back to prison,” said the justice. “But I must detain him until I ascertain whether he has stolen anything from Mrs. Wyett’s residence. In case he has done so, we can prosecute at the expiration of his term.” The prisoner seemed almost convulsed with rage, though of a sort which one of the officers whispered to the other he did not exactly understand. Guzzy eyed him resentfully, and glared at the officers with considerable disfavor. Guzzy was a law-abiding man, but to have an expected triumph belittled and postponed because of foreign interference was enough to blind almost _any_ man’s judicial eyesight. “Well,” said one of the officers, “put him in the lock-up’ and investigate in the morning; we won’t want to start until then, after the tramp he’s given us. Oh, Bay Billy, you’re a smart one—no mistake about that. Why in thunder don’t you use your smartness in the right way?—there’s more money in business than in cracking cribs.” “Besides the moral advantage,” added the squire, who was deacon as well, and who, now that he had concluded his official duties, was not adverse to laying down the higher law. “Just so,” exclaimed the officer; “and for his family’s sake, too. Why, would you believe it, judge? they say Billy has one of the finest wives in the commonwealth—handsome, well-educated, religious, rich, and of good family. Of course she didn’t know what his profession was when she married him.”