on to the same
place. You did quite right, Jim, to come straight to me."

"Ay, Thomas, I felt as it were best; for I were in a towering rage at
first, and I think I should have half killed some of 'em, if I could
only have got at them."

"Ah, well, Jim, you just let all that alone. `Vengeance is mine, I will
repay, saith the Lord.' We'll get our revenge in another way some day;
we may heap coals of fire on some of their heads yet. But you leave
matters now to me. I shall see Ned Taylor to-morrow myself, and give
him a bit of my mind; and warn him and his mates that if they try
anything of the kind on again, they'll get themselves into trouble."

"Thank you, Thomas, with all my heart, for your kindness: `a friend in
need's a friend indeed.' But there's just another thing as I wants to
talk to you about afore I go. I meant to come up to-night about it
anyhow, even if this do hadn't happened."

"Well, Jim, let's hear it."

"Do you remember Levi Sharples, Thomas?"

"What! That tall, red-haired chap, with a cast in his left eye, and a
mouth as wide and ugly as an ogre's?"

"Yes, that's the man. You'll remember, Thomas, he was concerned in that
housebreaking job four years ago, and the police have been after him
ever since."

"To be sure, Jim, I remember him fast enough; he's not a man one's
likely to forget. I suppose a more thorough scoundrel never set foot in
Crossbourne. It was a wonderful thing how he managed to escape and keep
out of prison after that burglary business. But what about him?"

"Why, Thomas, I seed him in this town the day before yesterday."

"Surely, Jim, you must be mistaken. He durstn't show his face in
Crossbourne for the life of him."

"No, I know that; but he's got himself made up to look like another
man,--black hair, great black whiskers, and a thick black beard, and a
foreign sort of cap on his head,--and he's lodging at the Green Dragon,
and pretends as he's an agent for some foreign house to get orders for
rings, and brooches, and watches, and things of that sort."

"But are you certain, Jim, you're not mistaken?"

"Mistaken! Not I. I used to know him too well in my drinking days.
He'll never disguise that look of that wicked eye of his from them as
knows him well; and though he's got summat in his mouth to make him talk
different, I could tell the twang of his ugly voice anywheres."

"Well, Jim?"

"Ah, but it ain't well, Thomas, I'm sorry to say: there's mischi