Mrs. V. B. Well, in round terms, it's his, but he mustn't spend it. Do you understand? Dr. A. Oh, yes. When I was a boy my uncle gave me a guinea on those terms. Mrs. V. B. Now come, doctor, dear, the young people look to me, and, when one is looked to, one should be equal to the emergency. What, would you advise me to do? Dr. A. Your property is not, I suppose, tied up? Mrs. V. B. No; it is quite unfettered, and consists principally of long leaseholds and funded property, left me by my godfather, and a small sum of money acquired by Captain Van Brugh on his first marriage. Dr. A. His first marriage! Bless me, I never knew he had been married before. Mrs. V. B. Yes, [much agitated] a most unhappy match. She she left him under discreditable circumstances went to Australia-resumed her maiden name, and under that name died in Melbourne. Dr. A. And when did this unhappy lady die? Mrs. V. B. [still agitated.] Oh, years ago. It's a terrible story. I don't like to think of it-I can't bear to talk of it. Dr. A. [aside.] What a blundering old savage I am! If there is a pitfall open, ten to one I tumble into it! [Aloud.] I have always understood that where marriage settlements of any consideration are concerned, it is customary to employ a solicitor. I can't quote my authority, but I feel sure that I am right. Mrs. V. B. Old Mr. Smailey is an executer under Captain Van Brugh's will, and his solicitor has always acted for me. Dr. A. His solicitor! what, that queer little redfaced fellow who accompanies him everywhere Mrs. V. B. No. Ha, ha, ha! I suppose Mr. Fitz Partington is a junior partner, or head clerk, or something of the kind-at all events, his name doesn't appear in the firm. Dr. A. Well, leave it to me, Mrs. Van Brugh, | and I'll write to my brother, the vice-chancellor, who will tell us what to do. Now I'm off. [Noise without.] Why, what's this? Bless me, Mrs. Van Brugh, what is the cause of this commotion? [Noise heard without, as of people struggling with a woman, who rudely expostulates with them. Mrs. V.B. Why, what in the world is the matter? Enter three or four SERVANT MEN with RUTH TREDGETT in custody. She is wild-looking and disheveled, as if she had been struggling violently. Groom. We've got her, ma'am. Don't be afraid. [To RUTH.] Stand quiet, you jade, will yer? Woa, there! We've got her, sir, but we've had a desperate hard job to do it. Dr. A. What has been done? Groom. She's knocked two teeth clean out of my head, sir, and give notice to quit to a dozen But. On her hands and knees, like a quadruped, sir. Dr. A. Have you searched her? But. [shocked.] No, sir, I have not searched her. Dr. A. Well, well, I mean, has she been searched? But. [with dignity.] I put my hand in her pocket, sir, and I looked under her shawl. Dr. A. Well, you didn't search her, but you put your hand in her pocket, and you looked under her shawl. What did you find there? But. A decanter of sherry, sir. [Producing it. Dr. A. [to MRS. VAN BRUGH.] Your sherry, Mrs. Van Brugh? But. Our sherry, Dr. Athelney. Dr. A. Well, you hear what this man says; did you take this wine? Ruth. Ave, I took it, sure enough. Dr. A. Why did you take it? Ruth. Why, to drink, of course. Why should I take it? Dr. A. You shouldn't take it. Ruth. Don't you never take wine? Dr. A. Not other people's wine-except, of course, with their permission. Ruth. Maybe you've got a cellar of your own? Ruth. Well, maybe I haven't. That's my answer. Dr. A. Now, what are we to do with her? Mrs. V. B. Leave her to me. Dr. Athelney, please remain here with me. Every one else, except the woman, leave the room. But. She's a desperate character, ma'am; it took six of us, including me, to bring her here. Mrs. V. B. Never mind. Dr. Athelney and I will see her alone. Take your hands from her and go. But. Hadn't we better keep within hearing? If help was wanted Mrs. V. B. No help will be wanted. I am in earnest. Go! Shut the door. [The SERVANTS reluctantly depart. Ruth. You're a cool hand, missis; ain't you afeard on me? Mrs. V. B. Not at all. Why should I be afraid of you? I mean you no harm. Ruth. Who's he? Mrs. V. B. Dr. Athelney, a clergyman and a magistrate. Ruth. Beak, is he? Well, let him make out the committal. Where's it to be? Sessions? Mrs. V. B. We have no wish to prosecute you. We wish to help you to arrive at a sense of right and wrong. Ruth. Can't it be done without a parson? I dunno much good o' parsons. I'd rather it was done without a parson. Dr. A. [kindly.] Don't think of me as a clergyman, if that calling is distasteful to you. Perhaps some day we may succeed in overcoming your prejudice. In the mean time think of me only as a harmless old gentleman, who is willing and able to help you to earn your living respectably, if you desire to do so. Ruth. Ah, I've come across the likes o' you afore now. Three weeks agone comes a parson, as it might be you. "I've come to help you, poor fallen creetur," says he; "I've come to tell you blessed truths, poor miserable outcast," says he. "Read that, wretched lost sheep," says he. "I'll call again in a month and see how you feel," says be. A month! Heugh! When I was bad with happy course of life, I will provide you with the fever the doctor come every day. He never come means of earning your living honestly. Mrs. V. B. I hope not. I have assisted many, very many such women as yourself, and I have seldom found my efforts wasted. Ruth. [in amazement.] But you-a lady, highborn, high-bred, beautiful, rich, good— no more. There's ladies come odd times. I call Ruth. Honestly! why, lady, I'm too fur gone to mind one-come in a carriage, she did. Same for that! story-poor, miserable, lost one-wretched, abandoned fellow-creetur, and that. She called me a brand from the burnin', and wanted to stretch out a hand to save me, she did. Well, she stretched it out, and I thought she meant it (for I was green then), and, fool-like, I took it and kissed it. She screeched as though I'd bit her. Mrs. V. B. Will you take my hand? Ruth. [astonished.] Do you know what I am? Mrs. V. B. Yes; I know well what you are. You are a woman that wants help, and I a woman who will help you. [Taking her hand. Ruth. [much moved.] Thankee, missis. [Struggling with tears.] Don't mind me. [Throws her apron over her face and sobs.] They will come odd times! Mrs. V. B. Will you tell me your name? Ruth. I dunno as I was born there, but I come from there. Dr. A. What are you? Ruth. I s'pose I'm a thief. I s'pose I'm what gentlefolk thinks is wus than a thief. God help me! I s'pose I'm as bad as I can be. [Weeping. Mrs. V. B. Are your parents alive? Ruth. No, I never had no father-my mother was such as me. See here, lady-wot's to become of a gal whose mother was such as me? Mother! Why I could swear before I could walk! Dr. A. But were you not brought up to any calling? Ruth. Yes, sir, I were; I were brought up to be a thief. Every soul as I knowed was a thief, and the best thief was the best thought on. Maybe a kid not long born ought to have knowed better. I dunno, I must ha' been born bad, for it seemed right enough to me. Well, it was in prison and out o' prison-three months here and six months there-till I was sixteen. I sometimes thinks as if they'd bin half as ready to show me how to go right as they were to punish me for goin' wrong, I might have took the right turnin' and stuck to it afore this. At sixteen I got seven year for shopliftin', and was sent out to Port Philip. I soon got a ticket and tried service and needlework, but no one wouldn't have me; and I got sick and tired of it all, and began to think o' puttin' a end to it, when I met a smooth-spoken chap-a gentleman, if you please-as wanted to save me from the danger afore me. Well, wot odds? He was a psalm-singing villain, and he soon left me. No need to tell the rest-to such as you it can't be told. I'm 'most as bad as I can be-as bad as I can be! Mrs. V. B. I think not; I think not. What do you say, doctor? Dr. A. [struggling with his tears.] Say, ma'am? I say that you, Ruth Tredgett, have been a most discreditable person, and you ought to be heartily ashamed of yourself, Ruth Tredgett; and as a clergyman of the Church of England, I feel bound to tell you that-that your life has been-has been what God knows it couldn't well have helped being under the circumstances. Mrs. V. B. Ruth Tredgett, I am very, very sorry for you. If you are willing to leave this un Mrs. V. B. Hush! [Rises.] No matter what I am. [With emotion.] Who shall say what the very best of us might not have been, but for the accident of education and good example? Tell me, Ruth Tredgett, will you accept my offer? Ruth. [kneels at her feet and looks up into her face.] I will! Enter MR. FITZ PARTINGTON. Fitz. [stopping SERVANT.] And his solicitor. Mr. S. [with mild sternness.] You have followed me again, sir? Fitz. Followed you again, sir; according to contract. Mr. S. There is no contract between us that entitles you to dog my footsteps as though you were hunting down a thief. Fitz. Hunting down a thief? Oh, yes. To enable me to assist you in blighting the character of the best and loveliest woman that ever shed a light upon a private detective's thorny path, I am to have the free run of your house and papers; I am to accompany you wherever you go, and you are to introduce me everywhere as your solicitor. Mr. S. Sir, you are not in the least like a solicitor. You are a ridiculously dressed person. You are like nothing in the world but what you are-a private detective. I desire to press hardly on no fellow-creature, but you are a spy! that base and unutterably abject thing—a spy! Fitz. Mr. Smailey, when you complain that you find my society irksome, you have my profoundest sympathy; I find it so myself. When you revile my profession, my sentiments are entirely in accord, for I have the very poorest opinion of it. But when you imply that I don't look the character I undertake to represent, why then, sir, you touch the private detective on the most sensitive part of his moral anatomy. I'm not a blameless character, but if I undertook to personate the Archbishop of Canterbury, I believe I should look the part, and my conversation would be found to be in keeping with the character. Mr. S. Pray, silence; oh, pray, pray, silence. You shock me inexpressibly. It is most painful to me to have to resort to your assistance. My son, my dear son, has engaged himself to marry Mrs. Van Brugh's daughter. I have lately had reason to believe that there is something discreditable in Mrs. Van Brugh's marriage relations, though I do not know its precise nature. You tell me that you have a certain clue to this flaw, though you decline to tell me what it is until your inghamshire farm upon her, on the usual terms proofs are matured. Well, sir, the Smaileys are a of a marriage settlement. I don't know the techvery old and very famous family. Caius Smaileius nical expression-but on the usual terms. came over with Julius Cæsar; his descendants Mr. S. The Buckinghamshire farm, yes. Thank have borne an untarnished scutcheon for eighteen you. I forget whether that is the leasehold or the hundred years. In its interest I am bound to em- freehold farm, for you have two. ploy you, and upon your own most exacting terms, though I cannot think of your contemptible calling without a feeling of the most profound abhorrence. Fitz. Sir, I am heartily ashamed of it. Mr. S. You are a professional impostor; a hired lie! Fitz. It is too true. I not only lie myself, but I am the cause of lying in others. Mr. S. For the lies that have to be told in accounting for you I hold you entirely responsible. I wish that to be understood. I wash my hands of them altogether, and, when I think of the deep, deliberate and utterly indefensible falsehoods that I have had to utter on your behalf, I tremble for your future--I tremble for your future! Fitz. Unselfish man. Mr. S. As for the preposterous terms you have dictated Fitz. Terms! I have secured to myself the unbroken enjoyment of your desirable society for six weeks, and, believe me, when I say that if I had been acquainted with the inexpressible charms of the most fascinating woman that ever shed a light upon the private detective's thorny path, I wouldn't have undertaken the job-no, not even for a life-time of your society! Enter MRS. VAN BRUGH. Mrs. V. B. Good morning, Mr. Smailey. sorry to have kept you waiting. [Aside.] absurd little man with him again. [Aloud.] morning, Mr. Fitz. Fitz Partington. I am That Good Mrs. V. B. Fitz Partington, of course. Fitz. [aside.] She might remember my name. I can't conceive any circumstances under which I could forget hers! Mr. S. Mr. Fitz Partington is entirely in my confidence. I brought him, because I believed that his familiarity with legal forms might assist us in our interview. You can speak without reserve before Mr. Fitz Partington. [Aside to FITZ PARTINGTON.] A lie, sir! Another lie, from first to last! Mrs. V. B. I suppose the facts will come before Mr. Fitz Partington when they are decided on. The steps by which they are arrived at will only bore him. I'm sure Mr. Partington won't be angry with me, when I ask him to amuse himself in the next room until preliminaries are arranged. Fitz. Mrs. Van Brugh, I have made it a part of my moral code to step without hesitation into any apartment you may think fit to indicate. [Exit. Mrs. V. B. Now, Mr. Smailey, about these settlements. I will tell you at once what I propose to do. My income is, as you know, a very large one-much larger than any one would suppose who judges from the quietness of my mode of life. I am an odd woman, and I spend my money in my own way. I have very many claims upon it, and, although I wish to deal handsomely with my darling Eve, I must not disappoint those who have counted upon me for some years past. To come to the point, I propose to settle my Buck Mrs. V. B. You mustn't ask me. Your solicitor knows. It's worth five hundred pounds a year, and that, I suppose, is the main point. Mr. S. Not altogether; the difference in value 2 may be prodigious. Have you a copy of the will? Mrs. V. B. No. I never saw the will. Mr. S. Never saw the will? I think I have a copy of it at home-with your permission I will go and fetch it, and the matter can be decided at once. Mrs. V. B. Do, by all means. I only know that my property is all my own, and that I can do what I like with it; and I assure you, Mr. Smailey, I avail myself of the privilege. Mr. S. You do, indeed. And that reminds me, Mrs. Van Brugh, that I am anxious to speak to you on another topic-a topic of a singularly painful character. I will endeavor, Mrs. Van Brugh, to approach it as delicately as possible. Mrs. V. B. Indeed! [Alarmed.] You rouse my curiosity, Mr. Smailey. Does it—does it refer in any way to myself? Mr. S. Directly to yourself. Mrs. V. B. [much alarmed.] May I ask in what way? Mr. S. As I said before, it is a most difficult subject to approach, and I would willingly spare you. Give me a moment to think how I can best put it to you. Mrs. V. B. [with half disguised emotion.] Pray have no hesitation in telling me what it is. [With affected cheerfulness.] Does it does it refer in any way to my-to my past life, for instance? Mr. S. It does refer to incidents in your past life. To many incidents in general, and to one incident in particular.. Mrs. V. B. [with suppressed agitation.] For heaven's sake, sir, be explicit. Speak out, I implore you. Mr. S. You seem strangely agitated, Mrs. Van Brugh. Mrs. V. B. No, no; I am ill and nervous today. Your manner is rather alarming. [With affected cheerfulness.] You know I'm a very bad hand at guessing riddles, Mr. Smailey. Come, what is it? I give it up. [He hesitates.] Why have you any hesitation in telling me? Mr. S. Because it involves a particularly delicate moral point. [She is much agitated.] God bless me, you seem very much alarmed! Mrs. V. B. [with determination.] Mr. Smailey, once and for all, I insist upon knowing what it is. Mr. S. Well, then, to be quite plain with you, it is currently reported in the village that you have taken a miserable woman from the streets and established her in the character of a respectable workwoman within a hundred yards of this spot. [MRS. VAN BRUGH, whose agitation and alarm have been intense, is greatly relieved.] Moreover, I have been informed that you have, for some years past, been in the habit of searching out women of bad character who profess penitence, with a view of enabling them to earn their living in the society of blameless Christians. Mrs. V. B. I have. Mr. S. I tell you at once, that I am loath to believe this thing. Mrs. V. B. [with indignant surprise.] Why are you loath to believe this thing? Mr. S. Why? [Rises.] Because its audacity, its want of principle, and, above all, its unspeakable indelicacy, shock me beyond the power of expression. Mrs. V. B. Mr. Smailey, is it possible that you are speaking deliberately? Think of any blameless woman whom you love and honor, and who is loved and honored of all. Think of the shivering outcast, whose presence is contamination, whose touch is horror unspeakable, whose very existence is an unholy stain on God's earth. Woman-loved, honored, courted by all. Woman -shunned, loathed and unutterably despised, but still-woman. I do not plead for those whose advantages of example and education render their fall ten thousand times more culpable. Let others speak for such as they. [With a broken voice.] It may be that something is to be said, even for them. I plead for those who have had the world against them from the first-who with blunted weapons and untutored hands have fought society single-handed, and fallen in the unequal fight. God help them! Mr. S. Mrs. Van Brugh, I have no desire to press hardly on any fellow-creature, but society, the grand arbiter in these matters, has decided that a woman who has once forfeited her moral position shall never regain it. Mrs. V. B. Even though her repentance be sincere and beyond doubt? Mr. S. Even so. Mrs. V. B. Even though she fell unprotected, unadvised, perishing with want and chilled with despair? Mr. S. Even so. For such a woman there is no excuse—for such a woman there is no pardon. Mrs. V. B. You mean no pardon on earth? Mr. S. Of course I mean no pardon on earth. What can I have to do with pardon elsewhere? Mrs. V. B. Nothing. Mr. Smailey, when you have procured the will, I shall be ready to see you; but before you go, let me tell you that I am inexpressibly shocked and pained at the terrible theory you have advanced. [He endeavors to speak.] Oh, understand me, I do not charge you with exceptional heartlessness. You represent the opinions of society, and society is fortunate in its mouthpiece. Heaven teaches that there is a pardon for every penitent. Earth teaches that there is one sin for which there is no pardon--when the sinner is a woman! RUTH has entered. She is quietly and decently dressed, and carries a parcel of needlework in her hand. Mr. S. [aside.] Mrs. Van Brugh, pray be quiet; we are observed. Mrs. V. B. By the subject of our conversation. [Exit MRS. VAN BRUGH. Ruth. I beg pardon-I thought the lady was alone. [Going. Mr. S. Stop, woman! [She turns and advances.] Don't-don't approach me-we have nothing in common. Listen at a distance. Mrs. Van Brugh has thought proper to place you on a pedestal that levels you, socially, with respectable Christians. In so doing, I consider that she has in sulted respectable Christians. She thinks proper to suffer you to enter my presence. In so doing I consider that she has insulted me. I desire you to understand that when a woman of your stamp enters the presence of a Christian gentleman, she Ruth. [who has been looking at him in wonder during this speech.] Smailey! That's never you! [MR. SMAILEY falls back in his chair.] Aye, Smailey, it's Ruth Tredgett ! Mr. S. [very confused.] I did not know whom I was speaking to. Ruth. But you knowed what you was speakin' to, Jonas Smailey. Go on. I'm kinder cur'ous to hear what you've got to say about a woman o' my stamp. I'm kinder cur'ous to hear what Jonas Smailey's got to say about his own work. Mr. S. We meet in a strange way after so many years. Ruth. Yes, we do meet in a strange way. Seems to me it's suthin' of a topsy-turvy way. But it's a topsy-turvy world, ain't it? Mr. S. [recovering himself, with bland dignity.] I have no desire to press hardly on any fellowcreature Ruth. [quietly.] Come, that's kind, anyhow. Mr. S. Perhaps, after all, you were not entirely to blame. Ruth. Well, p'raps not. Mr. S. Perhaps I myself was not altogether without reproach in the matter. But, in my case, allowance should, in common charity, be made for follies that arise from extreme youth andand inexperience. I was barely forty then. Ruth. And I was just sixteen. Well, I forgive you, along o' your youth, as I hope to be forgiven along o' my childhood. Mr. S. [rises.] The tone you adopt is in the worst possible taste. The misguided lady who has taken upon herself, most wickedly, to foist you upon society, has committed a fraud, which Ruth. Stop there, Smailey! You're getting on dangerous ground. Best leave that lady alone. She's a bit chipped off heaven-she's good right through. She's she's- I'm slow at findin' words that mean goodness. My words run mostly the other way, wus luck. If I had to tell o' you, Smailey, they'd come handy and strong. I can't find words that mean her! Mr. S. I have no wish to be hard on you, but it is a fraud, and— Ruth. Fraud? Fraud's a bad word to come from you, Smailey. I'd ha' thought you'd ha' fought shy o' that word for the rest o' your days. Mr. S. [taken aback.] I don't know what you refer to. Ruth. I'm referrin' to Martha Vane, of Melbourne. What, yer recklect Martha Vane, do yer? Mr. S. Martha Vane! Yes, I remember Vane. Pooh! There is nothing to connect me with that matter. Ruth. Nothing? I've writin' of yours which is fourteen year, if it's a day. Mr. S. And do you mean to say that you would be guilty of such inhumanity-such devilish inhumanity (I use the word "devilish" in its religious sense) as to bring up an act of youthful follyguilt, if you will-against me, now that I have achieved wealth, reputation and social position? Ruth. No; you're safe, Smailey. Bring it up agin yer now? Why, you may have repented, who knows? You was a bad lot, sure enough, but that's twenty years agone, and you may ha' repented. Mr. S. I have; I'm an altered person-I-Iwill make it well worth your while to give me up that writing you refer to. I will pay you very handsomely for it. Ruth. Pay! no; I ain't on that lay. I'm square now. I'm a 'spectable woman. I only takes money what I earns. It comes slow, but it comes comfortable. Mr. S. Your sentiments do you credit. I confess I did not look for such delicacy of feeling in you; it exalts one's idea of human nature. I am thankful for anything that exalts one's idea of human nature. Thank you, Tredgett. Give me these papers. Ruth. No; I'm 'spectable, but I ain't a fool. keep 'em, case I want 'em. I'll Mr. S. As you please. Remember, Tredgett, I am a person of influence here, and a county istrate Ruth. What, d'you sit at quarter sessions? Ruth. And sentence poor prigs? Enter MRS. VAN BRUGH. [He shows traces of emotion. Mrs. V. B. Mr. Fitz Partington, is anything the matter? Fitz. Ma'am, you have come upon me in a moment of professional conscientiousness. Avail yourself of it, for such moments are rare and fleeting. Beware of Smailey! Mrs. V. B. What in the world do you mean? Fitz. I mean that he is endeavoring to prove that that you were not legally married to Captain Van Brugh. Mrs. V. B. [intensely agitated.] Mr. Fitz Partington, you cannot be aware of the full import of your words. What can be Mr. Smailey's motive for making these preposterous inquiries? Fitz. That's just what I want to get at. In a mag-general way, it's sure to be something dirty. Perhaps he thinks that the property you inherit from Captain Van Brugh isn't legally yours, and therefore can't be settled by you on your daughter. Ruth. Nothing; go on-it's all topsy-turvy! Mr. S. I shall be happy if I can serve you in any way. I shall always be glad to hear that you are doing well, and I feel certain that the admirable lady who has so kindly taken you in hand will have no reason to regret her charity. It is easy to fall, and hard to rise again. Heaven bless those who extend a helping hand. I am very glad indeed that we have met. I've no wish to press hardly on any fellow-creature. [Exit. Ruth. Jonas Smailey! Smailey here! Things come about queerly. I seed him last at t'other end o' the world, and to meet him here! Who's that? I wish yer Mrs. V. B. But I inherited very little indeed from Captain Van Brugh. The bulk of my property was left me by my godfather. Fitz. Then I'm wrong. But does Smailey know this? Mrs. V. B. Know it! Why, of course he knows it. He's my godfather's nephew, and next-of-kin. Fitz. What! his next-of-kin? Next-of-kin is a fruitful expression. I see a whole plantation of motives cropping out of "next-of-kin." Have you a copy of the will? Mrs. V. B. No. But Mr. Smailey has-indeed, he has gone to fetch it. Fitz. Can you tell me the terms of the legacy? Mrs. V. B. No, not precisely. I have never seen the will. My solicitor has told me its purport in general terms. Fitz. Are you referred to in that will by your married or maiden name? Mrs. V. B. Oh, by my maiden name. Mrs. V. B. Quite sure. At least, I feel quite sure. I can't be absolutely certain, but-oh, yes; I am sure of it. Fitz. What was the date of the will? Mrs. V. B. Eighteen fifty-six. Fitz. What was the date of your marriage? Mrs. V. B. [after a pause.] Eighteen fifty-six. Fitz. My dear Mrs. Van Brugh, this is most important. The news of your marriage might or might not have reached the testator in Australia. If there is any flaw in your marriage, and if you are described in that will as Captain Van Brugh's wife, every penny you possess will revert to Smailey. Now Smailey is a scoundrel. Mrs. V. B. Mr. Fitz Partington, pray explain yourself. Fitz. In the full conviction that what I am going to say will be treated as confidential, I will explain myself. I'm after Smailey. Smailey will soon be wanted. Ruth. I don't like p'leece money. I never took none yet, I ain't a-goin' to begin now. good day. I don't like p'leece money. [Exit. Fitz. I'm not a policeman, I'm a private detective; but we won't split hairs. [Pockets coin.] I thought Smailey was my man, now I'm sure of it. Mrs. V. B. This is scarcely an explanation. Ha, ha! Now Smailey has a game. The ques- Fitz. Scarcely an explanation. Twenty years tion is, What is it? He says it's his scutcheon, but ago, when in Australia, Smailey forged a burialthat is Walker, because his father was a wig-certificate to get some trust-funds into his possesmaker. However, it's quite clear that, whatever sion. The job was given to our house to investihis game may be, it is my duty to put that inesti- gate, only six weeks ago. Two days after, who mable woman on her guard. should come to us for a detective to inquire into |