said Mr. Alibone.

"Wrong you are, for once, Jerry! 'Twarn't no more Mackerel than it was
Camberwell."

Said Mr. Jerry:--"Take an even tizzy on it, Mo?" He twisted the paper
about to recover the paragraph, and found it. "Here we are! 'Ralph
Daverill, _alias_ Thornton, _alias_ Wix, _alias_!' ..."

"Never mind his ale-houses, Jerry. That's the name I'm consarned
with--Daverill.... What's the matter with M'riar?"

Uncle Mo had not finished his sentence owing to an interruption. For
Aunt M'riar, replacing some table-gear she was shifting, had sat down
suddenly on the nearest chair.

"Never you mind me, you two. Just you go on talking." So said Aunt
M'riar. Only she looked that scared it might have been a ghost. So Mrs.
Burr said after, who came in that very minute from a prolonged trying
on.

"Take a little something, M'riar," said Uncle Mo. He got up and went to
the cupboard close at hand, to get the something, which would almost
certainly have taken the form of brandy. But Aunt M'riar she said never
mind _her_!--she would be all right in a minute. And in a metaphorical
minute she pulled herself together, and went on clearing off the
supper-table. Suggestions of remedies or assistance seemed alike
distasteful to her, whether from Mrs. Burr or the two men, and there was
no doubt she was in earnest in preferring to be left to herself. So Mrs.
Burr she went up to her own supper, with thanks in advance for the
newspaper when quite done with, according to the previous intention of
Aunt M'riar.

The two smokers picked life up at the point of interruption, while Aunt
M'riar made a finish of her operations in the kitchen. Uncle Mo
said:--"Good job for you I didn't take your wager, Jerry. Camberwell
isn't in it. Mackerel goes near enough to landing--as near as Davenant,
which is what young Carrots called him."

This was the case--for Michael, though he had been silent at the time
about the Inquest, had been unable to resist the temptation to correct
Uncle Moses when the old boy asked: "_Wot_ did he say was the blooming
name of the party he was after--Daverill--Daffodil?" His answer
was:--"No it warn't! Davenant was what _he_ said." His acumen had gone
the length of perceiving in the stranger's name a resemblance to the
version of it heard more plainly in the Court at Hammersmith. This
correction had gratified and augmented his secret sense of importance,
without leading to any inquiries. Uncle Mo accepted Davenant as mor