"My client is Mr. Thomas Daggett, of Clawbonny, Ulster county, who holds your bonds as the administrator of the estate of the late John Wallingford, deceased, a gentleman to whom I believe you were related." "The _late_ John Wallingford! Is my cousin then dead?" "He departed this life eight months since, dying quite unexpectedly. Letters of administration have been granted to Mr. Daggett, who is a son of his mother's sister, and a principal heir, the party dying intestate. It is a great pity that the law excludes you from the succession, being as you are of the name." "My kinsman gave me reason to think I _was_ to be his heir, as it was understood he was to be mine. My will in his favour was left in his hands." "We are aware of that, sir, and your death being supposed, for a considerable period, it was thought your personals would descend to us, in part, by devise, which might have prevented the necessity of taking the unpleasant step to which we are now driven. The question was, which died first, you, or your cousin, and that fact, you will easily understand, we had no means of establishing. As it is, the duty of the administrator compels him to proceed, with as little delay as possible." "I have no alternative, then, but to go to gaol. I know not the person on earth, I can or could ask to become my bail for a sum as large as even that I justly owe, to say nothing of the penalty of the bond,'" "I am very sorry to hear this, Captain Wallingford," Mr. Meekly, the attorney, very civilly replied. "We will walk together, leaving the officer to follow. Perhaps the matter may be arranged amicably." "With all my heart, sir. But, before quitting this house, I will discharge my bill, and communicate my position to a couple of friends, who are waiting in the passage." Neb was one of these friends: for I felt I was fast getting into a condition which rendered the friendship of even my slaves of importance to me. That worthy fellow and Marble joined us on a signal from me, when I simply let them into the secret of my affairs. "Arrested!" said Moses, eyeing the sheriff's officer with sovereign contempt; though he was a sturdy fellow, and one who had every disposition to do his duty. "Arrested! Why, Miles, you can handle both these chaps, yourself; and, with Neb's and my assistance, could work 'em up into spun-yarn without a winch!" "That may be true, Moses: but I cannot handle the law, even with your powerful aid; nor should I wish to, if I could. I am bound to gaol, my friends,--having no bail,--so----" "Bail! Why _I_'ll be your bail; and, if you want two, there's Neb." "I fancy the gentleman don't much understand being taken on a writ," the attorney simpered. "I not understand it! That's a bloody poor guess of your'n, my friend.--When we had the scrape with the Hamburghers, in Philadelphy,--it's now coming thirty years,--"