And goodly interest it shall not lack, A generous rate per cent. for every particle; We take the raw material, sending back The manufactured article. * * * * * MR. PUNCH'S HOLIDAY STORIES. V.--A HUNTING MORN. (_In the approved manner of the Sporting Feuilleton._) Setting his teeth determinedly, Ralph Wonderson swarmed up the Virginia-creeper until he reached the closely-shuttered window. Here he clung precariously with one hand while with the other he produced a gimlet and noiselessly bored two holes in the green shutters. Was he too late? The question shot through his brain. With a quick intake of breath he applied an eye to one hole and an ear to the other and watched and listened. In the lighted room before him sat Sir Ernest Scrivener (_alias_ Marmaduke Moorsdyke) and a brutal-looking stranger. Sir Ernest was speaking. "Everything, I think, is ready," he said in his cold, level voice. "The wedding is to take place in the village church to-morrow at eleven. You, Ragley, will take up your position, disguised as a policeman, by the church porch, arrest Wonderson on a charge of arson, and detain him until I arrive, if I should not be already there. I have here the policeman's uniform complete. We are cub-hunting to-morrow morning, and at the proper moment I shall leave the hunt and make my way across to the church, provided with the forged warrant of arrest (which I shall, as a magistrate, hand to you), the forged death certificate of my present wife, and the forged special licence for the marriage of Lady Margaret Tamerton and myself. You will then rush Wonderson off in the motor which will be waiting, and I shall proceed to marry Lady Margaret. Yes--yes, everything is quite ready." "There's just one thing, Sir," said Ragley, "if you'll excuse me mentioning it. Supposing as how the lady refuses like." Sir Ernest tossed away his half-smoked cigar and smiled evilly. "That has been foreseen," he said. "The shock of Wonderson's arrest will cause her to feel faint. I shall have ready a bottle of smelling salts. I need not go into details ... drugs ... loss of will power ... you see...." The blood boiling in Ralph's ears prevented him from hearing more. Only the sight of the two murderous-looking revolvers on the table and the knowledge that he could not afford to take risks at this juncture stopped him from tearing open the shutters and dashing into the room. Sir Ernest rose to his feet and simultaneously Ralph slid down the creeper and regained _terra firma_. His mind was working rapidly. * * *