popular welcome from the people who have no snuff-boxes
whatever."

"I will go and listen to the ballads," I replied, "and in the mean
time do you await me here under that tree."

So saying I galloped into Bath, my soul sharp to find Forister and to
take him by the neck and strangle out of him those papers which were
my sole reasons for living. But the landlord of the best inn met me
with an unmistakable frankness.

"Mr. Forister?" said he. "Yes, your lordship, but Mr. Forister is gone
back to Bristol."

I was so pleased with his calling me "your lordship" that I hesitated
a moment. But I was recalled to sense by the thought that although Jem
Bottles and I had fifteen guineas between us, he had fourteen and I
had the one. Thanking the landlord I galloped out of Bath.

Bottles was awaiting me under the tree. "To Bristol," I cried. "Our
chase lies toward Bristol. He has doubled back."

"'Twas while we were at supper," said Bottles, as he cantered up to my
shoulder. "I might have had two trials at him if I had not had the
honour of meeting your worship. I warrant you, sir, he would not have
escaped me twice."

"Think of his crack in your skull, and be content," I replied. "And in
the mean time ride for Bristol."

Within five miles of Bristol we came upon a wayside inn in which there
was progressing a great commotion. Lights flashed from window to
window, and we could hear women howling. To my great surprise Bottles
at once became hugely excited.

"Damme, sir," he shouted, "my sweetheart is a chambermaid here, and if
she be hurted I will know it."

He spurred valiantly forward, and, after futilely calling to him to
check his career, I followed. He leaped from his horse at the door of
the inn and bounced into the place, pistol in hand. I was too confused
to understand much, but it seemed to my ears that his entrance was
hailed with a roar of relief and joy. A stable-boy, fearfully anxious,
grasped my bridle, crying, "Go in, sir, in God's name. They will be
killing each other." Thinking that, whatever betide, it was proper to
be at the back of my friend Bottles, I too sprang from my horse and
popped into the inn.

A more unexpected sight never met my experienced gaze. A fat landlady,
mark you, was sobbing in the arms of my villainous friend, and a
pretty maid was clinging to his arm and screaming. At the same time
there were about him a dozen people of both sexes who were yelling,--

"Oh, pray, Master Bottles!