country, I put Bess to it, and she soon brought me within hail. Bless
her black skin," added he, affectionately patting his horse's neck,
"there's not her match in these parts, or in any other; she wants no
coaxing to do her work--no bleeders for her. I should have been up with
you before this had I not taken a cross cut to look at poor Ben.

One night, when mounted on my mare.
To Bagshot Heath I did repair,
And saw Will Davies hanging there,
Upon the gibbet bleak and bare,
_With a rustified, fustified, mustified air._

Excuse my singing. The sight of a gibbet always puts me in mind of the
Golden Farmer. May I ask whither you are bound, comrades?"

"Comrades!" whispered the sexton to Luke; "you see _he_ does not so
easily forget his old friends."

"I have business that will not admit of delay," rejoined Luke; "and to
speak plainly----"

"You want not my society," returned Turpin; "I guessed as much. Natural
enough! You have got an inkling of your good fortune. You have found out
you are a rich man's heir, not a poor wench's bastard. No offence; I'm a
plain spoken man, as you will find, if you know it not already. I have
no objection to your playing these fine tricks on others, though it
won't answer your turn to do so with me."

"Sir!" exclaimed Luke, sharply.

"Sir to you," replied Turpin--"Sir Luke--as I suppose you would now
choose to be addressed. I am aware of all. A nod is as good as a wink to
me. Last night I learned the fact of Sir Piers's marriage from Lady
Rookwood--ay, from her ladyship. You stare--and old Peter, there, opens
his ogles now. She let it out by accident; and I am in possession of
what can alone substantiate your father's first marriage, and establish
your claims to the property."

"The devil!" cried the sexton; adding, in a whisper to Luke, "You had
better not be precipitate in dropping so obliging an acquaintance."

"You are jesting," said Luke to Turpin.

"It is ill jesting before breakfast," returned Dick: "I am seldom in the
mood for a joke so early. What if a certain marriage certificate had
fallen into my hand?"

"A marriage certificate!" echoed Luke and the sexton simultaneously.

"The only existing proof of the union of Sir Piers Rookwood with Susan
Bradley," continued Turpin. "What if I had stumbled upon such a
document--nay more, if I knew where to direct you to it?"

"Peace!" cried Luke to his tormentor; and then addressing Turpin, "if