if ya foller th' example o' General Clive, an' turn
yer young sperits into the lawful way--why, mebbe there be gowd swords
an' mints o' money somewheers fur ya too.

"Well now, I bin talkin' long enough, an' to tell ya the truth, I be dry
as a whistle, so I'll axe ya all to lift yer glasses, neebors, an' drink
the good health o' General Clive. So theer!"

As the worthy bailiff concluded his speech, the company primed their
glasses, rose and drank the toast with enthusiasm. Lusty cheers broke
from the drier throats outside; caps were waved, rattles whirled, kettles
beaten with a vigor that could not have been exceeded if the general
loyalty had been stirred by the presence of King George himself.

Only one man in the crowd held his peace. The stranger remained opposite
the window, silent, motionless, looking now into the room, now round upon
the throng, with the same smile of whimsical amusement. Only once did his
manner change; the smile faded, his lips met in a straight line, and he
made a slight rearward movement, seeming at the same moment to lose
something of his height.

It was when the guest of the evening stood up to reply: a young man,
looking somewhat older than his twenty-nine years, his powdered hair
crowning a strong face; with keen, deep-set eyes, full lips and masterful
chin. He wore a belaced purple coat; a crimson sash crossed his
embroidered vest; a diamond flashed upon his finger. Letting his eyes
range slowly over the flushed faces of the diners, he waited until the
bailiff had waved down the untiring applauders without; then, in a clear
voice, began:

"Bailiff Malkin, my old friends--"

But his speech was broken in upon by a sudden commotion in the street.
Loud cries of a different tenor arose at various points; the boys who had
been hanging upon the window ledge dropped to the ground; the crowd
surged this way and that, and above the mingled clamor sounded a wild and
fearful squeal that drew many of the company to their feet and several in
alarm to the window.

Among these the bailiff, now red with anger, shook his fist at the people
and demanded the meaning of the disturbance. A small boy, his eyes round
with excitement, piped up:

"An't please yer worship, 'tis a wild Injun come from nowheer an' doin'
all manner o' wickedness."

"A wild Injun! Cotch him! Ring the 'larum bell! Put him in the stocks!"

But the bailiff's commands passed unheeded. The people were thronging up
the stre