There was something in what Chewkle said, as well as in his manner, which attracted the attention of Colonel Mires. He saw before him a fitting instrument for the commission of any act of rascality, and he came promptly to the conclusion that it would be better to enlist his services than to make an enemy of him. He, therefore, determined to fence with his questions for a short time before he came to an open understanding with him; and directly he proceeded to do this, Chewkle felt satisfied and at his ease. He parried the Colonel’s questions with the greatest ease, and artfully contrived to extract an admission from him which caused him to say---- “So you’ve come after young Miss Wilton, have you? You found another before you, eh? and you want to get hold of her on the sly, don’t you?” The Colonel eyed him curiously, somewhat staggered at the observation, and said, quickly-- “You know the fellow Vivian, I suppose?” “Vivian,” thought Chewkle, “Vivian--Wilton, Wilton--Vivian.” He rubbed his chin; presently he said-- “What, you mean Harper the goldsmith’s nevy?” “The same.” “I do--what then?” “I presume you have come down on his business?” “Well, you ain’t far out. He wants to get hold of Miss Wilton, too, you know.” This was the merest surmise on the part of Chewkle. He knew that Harry Vivian was acquainted with the Wiltons; it was not difficult to guess pretty near the truth. “I am aware of his insolent pretensions, as I am of the impossibility of their realization. I presume, as a man of the world, that service suits you best which pays you best.” “A conjuring freelogonist couldn’t have told you my weakness better if he had his fingers on my bumps. That _is_ my system.” “Abandon the service you have undertaken, and serve me. Tell me what you receive, and I will double it.” “You?” “I will.” “I am your humble servant.” Chewkle rubbed his hands with ecstacy. He became a confirmed follower in the belief that “it is better to be born fortunate than rich.” “Luck’s all,” he ejaculated, in a soliloquy, “and I’ve got it, I have.” He at once proceeded to tell Colonel Mires a host of lies respecting his mission to Flora. Improbable, and exaggerated as they were, the Colonel, in his raging jealousy and passion, believed them, and readily responded to Chewkle’s request for an earnest of payment before he took a step in his service. As soon as gold was once more in his purse, the unscrupulous agent declared himself ready to perform anything required of him, and the Colonel drew him by a circuitous path towards the narrow glen Flora was accustomed to visit. He pointed it out to him, and directed him how he might gain access to it unseen. He had hardly done so when he clutched Chewkle by the arm, and pointed to the pathway leading to it--