"Suppose you have! And suppose that I, as a justice of the peace and magistrate for the county, make out a warrant for your committal to prison as a rogue and vagabond? We're a long way from London, and justice's law is to be had down in these parts. Besides, how could you appeal? to whom could you refer? I've made a point of having a few inquiries made about you since you last did me the honour of a call, and I find that if not a regular gaol-bird, you could at all events be recognized by the police as a swindler and an utterer of base coin. What do you think of that Mr.--Butler?" What did he think of it? The realization of his worst fears, the overthrow of his strongest hopes! He ought to have relied on the presentiment which had told him that the man would take this course, though not so promptly or so strongly. He thought he would try one more bit of bounce, and he shook himself together and put as much impudence as he could command into his look as he said, "How do you know I've not got that forged bill in my pocket?" "By your face, sir! I can see that as plainly as if it were written there in big black letters! Ah, I knew I was right! Now, what have you got to say to this, Mr. Butler?" Mr. Effingham fairly collapsed. "Nothing, Sir Charles," he stammered. "I've nothing to say-only have mercy, Sir Charles! I have not brought the bill with me, but I know where it is, and could lay my hand on it at any time, Sir Charles. And as to what you said about committing me as a rogue and a vagabond, O Lord! don't do it, Sir Charles! pray don't! I'm a poor miserable devil without a rap; but if you'll only let me go, I'll find my way back to town, and never intrude on you again, Sir Charles; I--" All this time Mr. Effingham had been backing, and with his hand behind him feeling for the handle of the door. Having secured it, he was about to vanish, when Sir Charles called out to him "Stop!" and he stopped at once. "You say you're hard-up, Mr. Butler?" "I'm positively stumped, Sir Charles." "Then you'd be glad to earn a little money?" "If I could do so--" Mr. Effingham was about to say "honestly," but he thought this would be a little too glaring, so he finished his sentence by substituting "without incurring any danger, I should be delighted." "There would not be the slightest danger--" "By danger I mean, punching of heads and that kind of thing." "Precisely; there would be nothing of that. The only person with whom you would be brought into contact would be a woman." Mr. Effingham's barometrical mercury rose as quickly as it fell. "A woman!" he said, as he settled his limp collar and gave a pull at his dirty wristbands,--"a woman, Sir Charles! Oh, then, I've no fear."