"You know him, Mr. Meredith," he had observed to me in his frankest tone, as we walked out together after breakfast, on the morning after our arrival; "and I look to you to make the matter easy. We will step over to the farm at once, if you please, and have a glass of home-brewed with the good man, when, I dare say, he will tell us what we want to know, and exculpate himself at the same time." "Mr. Townshend," I replied, gravely, "I have been made a catspaw of already, within a few weeks, and until the remembrance of that event has worn off very considerably, I shall not act that part again." "Very good, sir," responded the Runner, cheerfully. "I only thought, that being a well-wisher to the person in question, you might have made the thing less unpleasant for him. If you went with me, introducing me as a gentleman from London, anxious to see good farming, for instance--that 'ud tickle him--I could bring the subject of the note into conversation; then, if he explained to my satisfaction, as he will doubtless be able to do, how he got possession of it, it will not be necessary to inquire further. He need never know as a police-officer had been down here with darbies in his pocket, upon the chance of having to fit them on his wrists upon the charge of Wilful Murder." "There is certainly something in that," said I, musingly. "There is everything in it," returned Mr. Townshend, stepping carelessly over the style, on the other side of which ran the pathway to Mr. Arabel's residence. "The idea of this man's guilt being, as you say, quite preposterous, it would only be a kindness on your part to spare his feelings. That's a fine stout old fellow looking at those men at work in yonder field, a sort of man that carries his years better than one sees people do in London: I should say, now, that might be the farmer himself." "Really," said I, stopping short, "I think you had better do this business of yours alone, Mr. Townshend. I have eaten and drunk in Mr. Arabel's house, and to be concerned in any such errand as this seems but a poor return for his hospitality." "Ah, it _is_ him, is it? Very good, sir. Well, you may just please yourself as to accompanying me now. When I have once set eyes on my man it is not my habit to lose sight of him. Still, you might have made it easier--for _him_, that is. It is no matter to me whether the thing is done soft or hard." And the Bow Street runner stepped along as he spoke, like a diligent man who sees his work cut out before him. After a moment's indecision, I followed upon Mr. Townshend's heels.