“You need not employ violence,” said a harsh, clear voice. “On whose suit is it?” “Several suits, sir. They ’eld over in the ’opes that you’d pull off the fight this mornin’. Total amounts is twelve thousand pound.” “Look here, my man, I have a very important appointment for seven o’clock to-morrow. I’ll give you fifty pounds if you will leave me until then.” “Couldn’t do it, sir, really. It’s more than our places as sheriff’s officers is worth.” In the yellow glare of the carriage-lamp I saw the baronet look up at our windows, and if hatred could have killed, his eyes would have been as deadly as his pistol. “I can’t mount the carriage unless you free my hands,” said he. “’Old ’ard, Bill, for ’e looks vicious. Let go o’ one arm at a time! Ah, would you then?” “Corcoran! Corcoran!” screamed a voice, and I saw a plunge, a struggle, and one frantic figure breaking its way from the rest. Then came a heavy blow, and down he fell in the middle of the moonlit road, flapping and jumping among the dust like a trout new landed. “He’s napped it this time! Get ’im by the wrists, Jim! Now, all together!” He was hoisted up like a bag of flour, and fell with a brutal thud into the bottom of the carriage. The three men sprang in after him, a whip whistled in the darkness, and I had seen the last that I or any one else, save some charitable visitor to a debtors’ gaol, was ever again destined to see of Sir Lothian Hume, the once fashionable Corinthian. * * * * *