“Hark! I hear hasty footsteps; slip down, Julia, and probably you may hear if any accident has happened. I would not alarm my father unnecessarily until we know whether the affray was serious.” I obeyed my brother’s wishes, and returned to the parlour. We heard men without; they seemed excited, spoke fast, and hurried rapidly along the street. Presently a knock was heard; I opened the door,--it was Gripp, my uncle’s clerk. He had come here to seek his master, and one glance at the evil agent of the lawyer, told that he was the bearer of heavy news. “Well, George,” said Josiah, eagerly, “what’s wrong?” The lawyer never asked, “what’s right?” “Nothing pertikler,” returned my uncle’s satellite; “only one man is murdered, and half a dozen nearly killed.” “When--where--how?” asked my uncle. “Why, down at the Tinker’s Cove; a row between smugglers and revenue men. Red Frank shot Nat Davis through the heart--and he was all but taken, when a comrade floored two officers, and Frank gave leg-bail to the other.” “Ha! that makes the other fellow an accessory after the fact; he’ll hang, that’s certain. Is he known?” George Gripp answered with a wink; the wink was an affirmative one. “What’s his name? Will he be able to fee counsel, and employ a solicitor?” inquired the lawyer. Gripp winked affirmatively. “His name?” “One very like your own.” was the reply. My father started--“Speak, fellow, who was the murderer’s comrade?” “Your son,” returned the bailiff, coldly. “My son? William Rawlings? ’tis false, by Heaven!” “You may depend upon it, Dick,” observed my precious uncle, “that George Gripp is well-informed.” My father drooped his head--I sprang from my chair and folded him in my arms. “‘Tis false! my father--believe _me_, the charge is false.” “I wish it were,” replied Josiah, in a tone that showed his incredulity. “Gracious Heaven!” murmured the poor quarter-master; “and is the son I loved so dearly, branded as accomplice to a murderer? Did my William consort with desperate men, and engage in lawless enterprise? I won’t--I can’t believe it.” “You may depend upon it,” returned the lawyer’s clerk; “I have it from the best authority.” Mv father turned wildly to my uncle--“Josh! speak, man! have heart, for once, and say if what that scoundrel says may be credited. You shake your head; well, if the misfortune has occurred, what will be its worst consequences? Can you tell? even--” “Tell?” returned the lawyer; “ay, and with as much certainty, as if the foreman of the jury had delivered a verdict ‘for self and fellows.’” “Out with the worst, man,” gasped my father. “They’ll be hanged, that’s safe,” responded the lawyer, with a decision that forbad all argument. “Hanged! my William hanged! Hanged as a felon, and share an outlaw’s fate, with one familiarized to crime, and grown grey in iniquity--Impossible!”