"Your methods are highly original, Mr. Shrig," said I, "but do they always work correctly?" "Ever an' always, sir--barrin' accidents. O' course, there's many a promisin' murderer died afore 'e could do the deed, death 'as no more respect for vould-be murderers than for their wictims. But whenever I sees a cove or covess with the true murderer's face, down goes that cove or covess' name in my little reader, an' I vatches an' vaits for 'em to bring it off, werry patient." "Have you written down the name of Haredale in your little book?" I enquired. "Haredale, Mr. Werricker, sir? V'y no, I ain't. V'y should I, sir? Vot ha' you to tell me about any party, name o' Haredale?" "Only that you will find such a name on the piece of paper you are after." Mr. Shrig's roving eye fixed me for a moment. "Haredale?" he muttered, shaking his head, "Haredale?" At this juncture, with a soft knock on the door, Clegg presented himself, bearing the following letter from my uncle. MY DEAR PEREGRINE: I am grateful for your forethought, but you may suffer the man to visit me, for the law is the law--besides, the man Shrig is an old acquaintance. Moreover I have learned all I desired from the scrap of paper and it is therefore entirely at Mr. Shrig's service. Should you still be suffering from spleen, liver or the blue devils, go for a gallop on your "Wildfire." With which salutary advice to yourself and good wishes to your friend Mr. Vere-Manville, I REST, YOUR AFFECTIONATE UNCLE, JERVAS. "Mr. Shrig," said I, "you have my uncle's permission to wait upon him at once. Sir Jervas is acquainted with you, it seems?" "Sir Jervas?" repeated Mr. Shrig, reaching down for hat and knobby stick. "Ackvainted? I should say so, sir! A reg'lar bang-up blood, a downright 'eavy toddler--oh, I know Sir Jervas, ackvainted is the werry i-denti-cal name for it! So, with your permission, sir, I'll be padding on my vay." "You will find him at his chambers in--" "St. James's Street, nigh opposite to Vite's, Mr. Werricker, sir. Ah many's the drop o' French brandy, glass o' port or sherry as I've drank to the 'ealth o' your uncle in them werry i-dentical chambers, sir. A gent wi' a werry elegant taste in crime is Sir Jervas. No, don't trouble to come down, sir, your young man shall let me out. A reg'lar treasure that 'ere young man o' yours, Mr. Werricker! Good morning, gen'elmen both, my best respex!" So saying, Mr. Shrig bobbed his head to us in turn, beamed as it might have been in benediction, and took himself away. CHAPTER III CONCERNING A BLACK POSTCHAISE "Begad, Perry, but that's a vicious brute of yours!" cried Anthony. This as Wildfire curvetted, snorting, sidled and performed an impassioned dance upon the footpath. "Not exactly vicious, Tony," I demurred when I had quelled this exuberance, "merely animal spirits. Wildfire is a high-strung creature requiring constant thought and attention and is consequently interesting, besides which--"