bout this bill which must be explained, or your son might be called on
to refund the cash."

"'Irregularity about--a bill?" cried Michael Penfold, in dismay "Who is
the drawer? Let me see it. Oh, dear me, something wrong about a bill
indorsed by you, Robert?" and the old man began to shake piteously.

"Why, father," said Robert, "what are you afraid of? If the bill is
irregular I can but return the money. It is in the house."

"The best way will be for Mr. Robert Penfold to go at once with me to the
bill-broker; he lives but a few doors off. And you, sir, must stay here
and be responsible for the funds, till we return."

Robert Penfold took his hat directly, and went off with this mysterious
visitor.

They had not gone many steps, when Robert's companion stopped, and,
getting in front of him, said, "We can settle this matter here." At the
same time a policeman crossed the way and joined them; and another man,
who was, in fact, a policeman in plain clothes, emerged from a doorway
and stood at Robert Penfold's back.

The detective, having thus surrounded him, threw off his disguise. "My
man," said he, "I ought to have done this job in your house. But I looked
at the worthy old gentleman and his gray hairs. I thought I'd spare him
all I could. I have a warrant to arrest you for forgery!"

"Forgery! arrest me for forgery!" said Robert Penfold, with some
amazement, but little emotion; for he hardly seemed to take it in, in all
its horrible significance.

The next moment, however, he turned pale, and almost staggered under the
blow.

"We had better go to Mr. Wardlaw," said he. "I entreat you to go to him
with me."

"Can't be done," said the detective. "Wardlaw has nothing to do with it.
The bill is stopped. You are arrested by the gent that cashed it. Here is
the warrant; will you go quietly with us, or must I put the darbies on?"

Robert was violently agitated. "There is no need to arrest me," he cried;
"I shall not run from my accuser. Hands off, I say. I'm a clergyman of
the Church of England, and you shall not lay hands on me."

But one of the policemen did lay hands on him. Then the Reverend Robert
Penfold shook him furiously off, and, with one active bound, sprang into
the middle of the road.

The officers went at him incautiously, and the head detective, as he
rushed forward, received a heavy blow on the neck and jaw that sounded
along the street, and sent him rolling in the mud; this was followed by a