"He was a younger and a stronger man than I, and moreover had the advantage of attack; but, as you know, I was something of a wrestler in my youth, and so by a well-proved trick I sent him flying from me. Reeling back, his head struck full upon the wall, and there he lay like one dead. Nor was this all, for, as he fell, a paper left his pocket. Picking it up I read ’To Robert Ferguson, Esquire.’ That was enough for me. Taking the box I left him lying there, and started straightway on my homeward journey. "As for Ferguson, I hoped devoutly he was killed, and still regret he was not; but, alack! within a fortnight from that time the Rye House Plot came out, and he was forced to flee the country, and, thank Heaven, hath never dared to show his wicked face in England since. So there you have the answer to your question, Michael," said my father, in conclusion. "Is all now clear to you, my son?" "Yes, sir," I answered, "it is clear enough how you met Ferguson and got his box; but why, having such clear proof of his amazing falseness, did you not expose him to the world?" "Because I dared not, Michael," replied the old man slowly. "Wrong breeds wrong, and violence violence. In my anger I had taken that to which I had no right; but, as you see, there is naught save my written word to prove I was not privy to these forgeries; nor would those in authority have believed it was not so. And remember that the law was even then, as ten times more so now, gathered up in one foul, cruel fellow--that bloody-minded man, Judge Jeffreys. Yea, verily, to be found with this," he added, tapping the box significantly, "would then, as now, have spelt death to any man. And although, even six years ago my days were not many, I had no wish to cut them short by dangling at a rope-end. Wherefore I kept the box, and--well, here it is." "And Ferguson made no stir about it?" "Nay, by the same token that he dare not, for would they not have asked how he had knowledge of it? What now? Hast any further questions, Michael?" "Nay, sir," I answered, after thinking for a moment, "I have no more questions, but, if I may, I would make one suggestion." "Ah, certainly; what is it?" "Why, that in your written statement you should add unto the words ’Rank forgeries’--’by Ferguson, the Plotter.’" "A right excellent suggestion, too," rejoined my father. "It shall be done forthwith." Taking up his pen he did it, and was replacing the papers in their small black house, when I saw him add the letter concerning "A Certain Person", which, as you know, did not belong to him. "Stay!" I interrupted, "why that one, sir?"