The room, which was plainly furnished, seemed to serve as an office. The green covered table that stood in the middle was littered with letters and papers, among which a large, heavy-browed, dark-featured man was searching busily as I came in. Behind, and partly beside him, stood Barton, in an attitude of respectful attention; while, with his back to the fire, was a third person, whose age might have been from thirty-five to forty. His dress was in the perfection of the mode: his topboots reaching to the middle of his leg; his coat, of the lightest shade of sky-blue, was lined with white silk; and two watch chains hung down beneath his buff waistcoat, in the acme of the then fashion. His features were frank and handsome, and saving a dash of puppyism that gave a character of weakness to the expression, I should deem him a manly, fine-looking fellow. “So this is your 'Robespierre,' Major, is it?” cried he, bursting into a laugh, as I appeared. Barton approached nearer to him, and muttered something in a low, mumbling tone, to which the other seemed to pay little if any attention. “You are here, sir,” said the dark-featured man at the table, holding in his hand a paper as he spoke, “you are here under a warrant of the Privy Council, charging you with holding intercourse with that rebellious and ill-fated faction who seek to disturb the peace and welfare of this country,--disseminating dangerous and wicked doctrines, and being in alliance with France--with France--What 'a that word, Barton?--to--” “In two words, young gentleman,” said the young man at the fire, “you are charged with keeping very bad company, learning exceedingly unprofitable notions, and incurring very considerable present risk. Now I am not disposed to think that at your age, and with your respectable connections, either the cause or its associates can have taken a very strong hold of your mind. I am sure that you must have received your impressions, such as they are, from artful and designing persons, who had only their own ends in view when involving you in their plots. If I am justified in this opinion, and if you will pledge me your honor--” “I say, Cooke, you can't do this. The warrant sets forth--” “Well, well, we 'll admit him to bail.” “It is not bailable. Right Honorable,” said Barton, addressing the large man at the table. “Phelan,” said the younger man, turning away in pique, “we really have matters of more importance than this boy's case to look after.” “Boy as he is, sir,” said Barton, obsequiously, “he was in the full confidence of that notorious French captain for whose capture you offered a reward of one thousand pounds.” “You like to run your fox to earth. Barton,” replied the Under-Secretary, calmly, for it was he who spoke. “In alliance with France,” continued the dark man, reading from the paper, over which he continued to pore ever since, “for the propagation--ay, that's it--the propagation of democratic--”