but a gardener, and a tenth-down under-gardener at that;
in fact, you could scarcely call him even an under-gardener, though
he did odd jobs about the gardens. To be short, it was Tommy Collins
a hydrocephalous youth generally supposed to be half-baked, or, as we
put it in Cornwall, 'not exactly'; and on his immense head, crowning
a livery suit which patently did not belong to him, Tommy Collins
wore a dilapidated billycock hat.

As the carriage drew up I noted with a lesser shock that the harness
was wrongly crossed: and with that, as one constable stepped forward
to open the carriage door, I saw the other wink and make a sign to
Tommy, who--quick-witted for once--snatched off his billycock and
held it low against his thigh on the off-side, pretending to shake
off the rain, but in reality using this device to conceal the horrid
thing. At the same time the other constable, receiving an umbrella
which Sir Felix thrust forth, opened it with remarkable dexterity,
and held it low over my friend's venerable head, thus screening from
sight the disreputable figure on the box. As a piece of smuggling it
was extremely neat; but as I turned to follow I heard Tommy Collins
ask, and almost with a groan,--

'Wot's the use?'

Four of our fellow-magistrates were already gathered in the little
room at the rear of the court-house: of whom the first to greet our
Chairman was Lord Rattley. Lord Rattley, a peer with very little
money and a somewhat indecorous past, rarely honours the Tregantick
bench by attending sessions; but for once he was here, and at once
started to banter Sir Felix on his unpunctuality.

'Very sorry, gentlemen; very sorry--most inexplicable,' stuttered Sir
Felix, who suffers from a slight impediment of the speech when
hurried. 'Servants at home seemed--conspired--detain me. Jukes'--
Jukes is Sir Felix's butler, an aged retainer of the best pattern--
'Jukes would have it, weather too inclement. Poof! I am not too
old, I hope, to stand a few drops of rain. Next he brings word that
Adamson'--Adamson is (or was) Sir Felix's trusted coachman--
'is indisposed and unable to drive me. "Then I'll have Walters,"
said I, losing my temper, "or I'll drive myself." Jukes must be
failing: and so must Walters be, for that matter. We might have
arrived ten minutes ago, but he drove execrably.'

'Reminds me--' began Lord Rattley, when Sir Felix--who is ever
nervous of that nobleman's reminiscences, and had by this ti