He did not meditate inflicting personal violence on the hated wretch who had snatched away Helen from his hopes--no, personal violence could produce suffering but feeble compared with that under which the victim would writhe as Guzzy poured forth the torrent of scornful invective which he had compiled from the memories of his bilious brain and the pages of his "Webster Unabridged." At length there came a time when most men would have despaired. Love is warm, but what warmth is proof against the chilling blasts and pelting rains of the equinoctial storm? But then it was that the fervor of little Guzzy's soul showed itself; for, wrapped in the folds of a waterproof overcoat, he paced his accustomed beat with the calmness of a faithful policeman. And he had his reward. As one night he stood unseen against the black background of a high wall, opposite the residence of Mrs. Wyett, he heard the gate--_her_ gate--creak on its hinges. It could be no ordinary visitor, for it was after nine o'clock--it must be _he_. Ha! the lights were out! He would be disappointed, the villain! Now was the time, while his heart would be bleeding with sorrow, to wither him with reproaches. To be sure, he seemed a large man, while Guzzy was very small, but Guzzy believed his own thin legs to be faithful in an emergency. The unknown man knocked softly at the front-door, then he seemed to tap at several of the windows. Suddenly he raised one of the windows, and Guzzy, who had not until then suspected that he had been watching a house-breaker, sped away like the wind and alarmed the solitary constable of Bowerton. That functionary requested Guzzy to notify Squire Jones, justice of the peace, that there was business ahead, and then hastened away himself. Guzzy labored industriously for some moments, for Squire Jones was very old, and very cautious, and very stupid; but he was at last fully aroused, and then Guzzy had an opportunity to reflect on the greatness which would be his when Bowerton knew of his meritorious action. And Helen Wyett--what would be her shame and contrition when she learned that the man whose love she had rejected had become the preserver of her peace of mind and her portable personal property? He could not exult over _her_, for that would be unchivalrous; but would not her own conscience reproach her bitterly? Perhaps she would burst into tears in the court-room, and thank him effusively and publicly! Guzzy's soul swelled at the thought, and he rapidly composed a reply appropriate to such an occasion. Suddenly Guzzy heard footsteps approaching, and voices in earnest altercation. Guzzy hastened into the squire's office, and struck an attitude befitting the importance of a principal witness. An instant later the constable entered, followed by two smart-looking men, who had between them a third man, securely handcuffed. The prisoner was a very handsome, intelligent-looking young man, except for a pair of restless, over-bright eyes.