“Ah! yes, my friend; I think I have seen you before. If I mistake not, you are the one who gave me a word of cheer, while you relieved me of my property. Strange contradiction, though,” he added, laughing, “to take all I was worth, leave me a beggar, and then tell me to be of good cheer. But please tell me your name, and then I’ll comply with your request.” “I am known here as Jake Toleman; but more of myself hereafter; we will attend to Squire Moulton first.” “Very well; lead the way, and we will follow.” All proceeded toward the wretch, who glared savagely at them. Dora and her aunt, too, drew near, and soon the others about the room gathered around to hear what was going on. In the back part of the room and watching with a piercing eye every movement that was made, sat a tall, slender figure, enveloped in a heavy cloak, with its hood drawn close around her face. No one seemed to notice her presence, nor had she moved from her seat since she entered the place. She had quietly followed one file of men when they entered, and seated herself near the entrance. Now she suddenly rose and drew near the group surrounding the squire, and listened eagerly to every word that was spoken. Jake Toleman, as he called himself, stepped forward in front of Squire Moulton and said: “Do you know me, sir?” “Curse you, no, only as a smuggler, who was paid to do my will; nor do I wish to know you,” he growled. “I can easily believe the latter part of your reply,” replied the man, grimly, then added, “but the first part I deny. Look!” He pulled off his heavy wig and whiskers as he spoke. “Ha! Edgerton! Traitor!” exclaimed the wretch, starting angrily up. “No, sir, you are wrong; Edgerton is not my name, it is only the name of a character I have assumed.” “Who are you, then—and how came you here?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of his fear for a moment. “Your first question I will answer presently. I am here because I followed you. I knew your errand, and I came to thwart you at every point. I have been on your track for the last six or seven years. Why, do you ask? Because I had an object in view; you possessed something which I wanted, and which at last I have got.” “What—what is it?” gasped the squire, wildly, and striving to free himself from his fetters. “This!” said the other, sternly, taking a paper from his bosom, unfolding it, and holding it up before his eyes. “Blast you! what did you want of that? Ten thousand fiends take you—who are you, I say?” “I am one whom you have deeply wronged. You have made my life desolate, as well as that of others, by misrepresenting my character, my intentions, and everything connected with me. Would you know who I am? then look again!”