which was promptly obeyed.)
"Now, Sir, I must insist upon a full explanation of your mysterious
hints, or, as I am headborough of the district, I shall at once take you
into custody."

Jackson treated this menace with a loud laugh of derision.

"What ho!" he cried slapping Smith, who had fallen asleep with the
brandy-bottle in his grasp, upon the shoulder. "It is time!"

"For what?" grumbled the latter, rubbing his eyes.

"For the caption!" replied Jackson, coolly drawing a brace of pistols
from his pockets.

"Ready!" answered Smith, shaking himself, and producing a similar pair
of weapons.

"In Heaven's name! what's all this?" cried Wood.

"Be still, and you'll receive no injury," returned Jackson. "We're
merely about to discharge our duty by apprehending a rebel. Captain
Kneebone! we must trouble you to accompany us."

"I've no intention of stirring," replied the woollen-draper, who was
thus unceremoniously disturbed: "and I beg you'll sit down, Mr.
Jackson."

"Come, Sir!" thundered the latter, "no trifling! Perhaps," he added,
opening a warrant, "you'll obey this mandate?"

"A warrant!" ejaculated Kneebone, starting to his feet.

"Ay, Sir, from the Secretary of State, for _your_ arrest! You're charged
with high-treason."

"By those who've conspired with me?"

"No! by those who've entrapped you! You've long eluded our vigilance;
but we've caught you at last!"

"Damnation!" exclaimed the woollen-draper; "that I should be the dupe of
such a miserable artifice!"

"It's no use lamenting now, Captain! You ought rather to be obliged to
us for allowing you to pay this visit. We could have secured you when
you left the Mint. But we wished to ascertain whether Mrs. Wood's charms
equalled your description."

"Wretches!" screamed the lady; "don't dare to breathe your vile
insinuations against me! Oh! Mr. Kneebone, are these your French
noblemen?"

"Don't upbraid me!" rejoined the woollen-draper.

"Bring him along, Joe!" said Jackson, in a whisper to his comrade.

Smith obeyed. But he had scarcely advanced a step, when he was felled
to the ground by a blow from the powerful arm of Kneebone, who,
instantly possessing himself of a pistol, levelled it at Jackson's head.

"Begone! or I fire!" he cried.

"Mr. Wood," returned Jackson, with the utmost composure; "you're a
headborough, and a loyal subject of King George. I call upon you to
assist me in the apprehension of this person. You'll be answerable for