t upon the
reader. If he had borne with my narrative thus far, I look on him as a
friend, and feel that he deserves consideration. I may not have brought
out the fact with sufficient emphasis in the foregoing pages, but
nevertheless I protest that I have a conscience. Not so much as a
"thiccy" shall he find.

My advent caused a stir. Excited men left Beale, and rallied round me.
Charlie, rising to his feet, found himself dethroned from his position
of Man of the Moment, and stood blinking at the setting sun and opening
and shutting his mouth. There was a buzz of conversation.

"Don't all speak at once, please," I said. "I can't possibly follow
what you say. Perhaps you will tell me what you want?"

I singled out a short, stout man in grey. He wore the largest whiskers
ever seen on human face.

"It's like this, sir. We all of us want to know where we are."

"I can tell you that," I said, "you're on our lawn, and I should be
much obliged if you would stop digging your heels into it."

This was not, I suppose, Conciliation in the strictest and best sense
of the word; but the thing had to be said. It is the duty of every good
citizen to do his best to score off men with whiskers.

"You don't understand me, sir," he said excitedly. "When I said we
didn't know where we were, it was a manner of speaking. We want to know
how we stand."

"On your heels," I replied gently, "as I pointed out before."

"I am Brass, sir, of Axminster. My account with Mr. Ukridge is ten
pounds eight shillings and fourpence. I want to know----"

The whole strength of the company now joined in.

"You know me, Mr. Garnet. Appleby, in the High----" (Voice lost in the
general roar).

"...and eightpence."

"My account with Mr. Uk..."

"...settle..."

"I represent Bodger ..."

A diversion occurred at this point. Charlie, who had long been eyeing
Beale sourly, dashed at him with swinging fists, and was knocked down
again. The whole trend of the meeting altered once more, Conciliation
became a drug. Violence was what the public wanted. Beale had three
fights in rapid succession. I was helpless. Instinct prompted me to
join the fray; but prudence told me that such a course would be fatal.

At last, in a lull, I managed to catch the Hired Retainer by the arm,
as he drew back from the prostrate form of his latest victim. "Drop it,
Beale," I whispered hotly, "drop it. We shall never manage these people
if you knock them about. Go indoors, an