“Suppose I do not?” rejoined Vivian, sharply, turning his bright eye full upon the speaker, with an expression that savoured very strongly of a disposition to resist. The dirty man did not like the language it spake, but he affected not to be influenced by the threat it conveyed. He answered, temperately yet impressively-- “That is jes’ what I don’t suppose. Look here, young genl’man, you don’t know me--my name’s Jukes!” It might have been Snooks, or Wiggins, or any other name not down in the category of the young man’s acquaintances or friends. The indifference he displayed on hearing it could not be greater if it had. He so expressed himself, for which Mr. Jukes rewarded him with a stare of astonishment, and whistled. Then he chuckled-- “You’re in luck, you are,” he continued; “but then you are young, you’ll werry likely know me better some day. I’m a sheriff’s officer.” Certainly the youth recognised the office if he did not the man’s name. A thrill ran through his frame as the fellow hissed the words between his teeth, and a sound like a low wail burst from the lips of old Wilton. The youth turned towards him, his bosom swelling with the generous impulses natural to his age, and, in tones of earnest sincerity, he exclaimed, “Can I, in any way, aid you, Mr. Wilton?” The tone, the look, the gesture of the warm-hearted youth needed nothing to commend them to the keen appreciation of the old gold-worker, and his eyes filled with tears as the generous proffer fell upon his ears, but he shook his head sorrowfully. “I thank you, Master Vivian,” he said; “but you cannot help me. No, you cannot aid me.” “You do not know, Mr. Wilton, what I might be able to accomplish, if you would give me the opportunity,” he urged. “No, no,” replied the old man, “leave me to battle it out with this man as best I may.” “And jes’ leave that cup afore you go,” exclaimed Mr. Jukes, addressing Vivian. “It’ll help the hassets.” “I do not intend to go yet,” said Hal Vivian; “but when I do, believe me I shall take no instructions from you about the destination of this cup.” Mr. Jukes whistled shrilly by the united aid of his first and third fingers, and instantly the room door opened. A couple of yet shabbier and much dirtier personages than Mr. Jukes made their appearance. That individual waved his hand towards them, and performed the ceremony of introduction. “Mr. Nutty and Mr. Sudds, genl’men,” he said. “One on ’em, Mr. Nutty, I shall leave here in possession on a _fi. fa_., and Mr. Sudds will assist me in arresting Eustace Wilton on a _ca. sa._ and in taking on him a country walk to a spunging house.” Old Wilton turned as pale as death, and groaned in bitter anguish. Young Vivian felt a flush of heat pass over his frame. “Can nothing be done?” he asked of Jukes, earnestly. Mr. Jukes raised his dirty hand to his mouth, and recklessly bit his foul thumb-nail. He plunged into a fit of reflection. Suddenly he raised his head, and said to his companions--