“Has no one seen him?” inquired Stapleton, in a tone of unusual solemnity: he looked anxiously round the circle, but no reply was made. “Open that window,” continued he, pointing to one near him, in the recess of which stood the earth-stopper, who obeyed him, as fast as his stiff joints would permit A perfect silence reigned through the room for nearly a minute, after Abel had quitted it, in obedience to Borfield's commands, when the old earth-stopper said that he heard a tired horse galloping up the high-road, about a mile distant, and he thought it was the young 'squire's pie-bald. Upon being asked what induced him to think so, he replied, “Why, your honour, Master Martin's horse were lame vrom a zand-crack in the near vore-voot, and the horse I do hear, don't ztrike the ground even; I be zure he's lame;--and az I do think--” The earth-stopper would have proceeded, but Abel and Martin now entered the room. The young man's dress was in disorder; his hair was matted; his eyes were swollen; and his whole appearance indicated that he had not passed the night asleep in his bed. “I understand,” said he, addressing himself to Stapleton and Borfield,--“I understand that--” “You have but one question to answer, Martin,” interrupted Stapleton. “And answer it or not as you think fit,” said Borfield; “recollect, young gentleman, that you are not compelled to implicate yourself:--be careful!” “The caution, sir,” said Stapleton, “is kind and well-meant, but, I am sure, needless. Martin--did you, or did you not, aid Saul Braintree in his escape?” Martin was silent. “Don't press him,” said Borfield, forgetting to whom he was speaking; “we have quite sufficient, without his own acknowledgment, to warrant us in concluding that he did.--The constable's evidence--” “Borfield! Borfield!” cried Stapleton, casting on the old man a look of reproach that silenced him; “let him answer for himself. What say you, Martin? Acquit yourself, I insist--I entreat!--Did you cut the rope for Braintree?” “All that I have to say, sir,” replied Martin, firmly,--but his voice faltered, and he burst into tears, and hid his face in his hands as he concluded,--“All that I have to say, sir, is, that the man proved to me he was my own father!” “Martin, you're mad!” exclaimed Stapleton, starting from his seat. “Braintree your father!” said Borfield, removing his spectacles, but speaking in a calm and unconcerned tone; “How's this?--Then where's Mr. Stapleton's son?” “In the county gaol, abiding his trial for murder!” replied the young man. “Martin, your wits are wandering!” almost shrieked old Stapleton; “What do you mean?” “It is but too true, sir, I fear.--Meg Braintree changed us when children at her breast.” “No, zhe didn't, Master Martin,” said some one at the lower end of the room; “No, zhe didn't; worse luck!”