That functionary requested Guzzy to notify Squire Jones, justice of the peace, that there was business ahead, and then hastened away himself.

Guzzy labored industriously for some moments, for Squire Jones was very old, and very cautious, and very stupid; but he was at last fully aroused, and then Guzzy had an opportunity to reflect on the greatness which would be his when Bowerton knew of his meritorious action.

And Helen Wyett—­what would be her shame and contrition when she learned that the man whose love she had rejected had become the preserver of her peace of mind and her portable personal property?

He could not exult over her, for that would be unchivalrous; but would not her own conscience reproach her bitterly?

Perhaps she would burst into tears in the court-room, and thank him effusively and publicly!  Guzzy’s soul swelled at the thought, and he rapidly composed a reply appropriate to such an occasion.  Suddenly Guzzy heard footsteps approaching, and voices in earnest altercation.

Guzzy hastened into the squire’s office, and struck an attitude befitting the importance of a principal witness.

An instant later the constable entered, followed by two smart-looking men, who had between them a third man, securely handcuffed.

The prisoner was a very handsome, intelligent-looking young man, except for a pair of restless, over-bright eyes.

“There’s a difference of opinion ’bout who the prisoner belongs to,” said the constable, addressing the squire; “and we agreed to leave the matter to you.  When I reached the house, these gentlemen already had him in hand, and they claim he’s an escaped convict, and that they’ve tracked him from the prison right straight to Bowerton.”

The prisoner gave the officers a very wicked look, while these officials produced their warrants and handed them to the justice for inspection.

Guzzy seemed to himself to grow big with accumulating importance.

“The officers seem to be duly authorized,” said the squire, after a long and minute examination of their papers; “but they should identify the prisoner as the escaped convict for whom they are searching.”

“Here’s a description,” said one of the officers, “in an advertisement:  ’Escaped from the Penitentiary, on the ——­th instant, William Beigh, alias Bay Billy, alias Handsome; age, twenty-eight; height, five feet ten; complexion dark, hair black, eyes dark brown, mole on left cheek; general appearance handsome, manly, and intelligent.  A skillful and dangerous burglar.  Sentenced in 1866 to five years’ imprisonment—­two years yet to serve.’  That,” continued the officer, “describes him to a dot; and, if there’s any further doubt, look here!”

As he spoke, he unclasped a cloak which the prisoner wore, and disclosed the striped uniform of the prison.

“There seems no reasonable doubt in this case, and the prisoner will have to go back to prison,” said the justice.  “But I must detain him until I ascertain whether he has stolen anything from Mrs. Wyett’s residence.  In case he has done so, we can prosecute at the expiration of his term.”