“Pray where did you pick up the honest man who was able to swear to my intentions? he surely must be a clever fellow that can make affidavit as to another man’s thoughts—­eh, Mr. M’Clutchy?”

Val’s glances at the man, from time to time, were baleful; but, with his usual tact and plausibility, he restrained his temper before the sheriff, lest that gentleman might imagine that he had acted from any other principle than a sense of duty.

Harvey, who heard M’Clutchy’s determination with deep regret, now happening to look out of the window, observed a group of persons approaching—­one of the said group hard and fast in the grip of two of Val’s constables; whilst, at the same time, it was quite evident, that despite the ignominy of the arrest, mirth was the predominant feeling among them, excepting only the constables.  On approaching the house, they were soon known, and Val, to his manifest delight, recognized Mr. Easel as a prisoner, accompanied by Messrs. Hickman and Hartley, both of whom seemed to enjoy Easel’s position between the two constables, as a very excellent subject for mirth.

“Mr. M’Clutchy,” said M’Loughlin, “whether is it you or I that is about to hold a little levee in my humble parlor to-day?  But I suppose I need not ask.  Consider yourself at home here, my good neighbor—­you are now up, and I am down; so we must only allow you to have your way.”

Just then the parlor door once more opened, and the party already alluded to entered.  Very distant and very polite were the salutations that passed from M’Clutchy to the party in question, which the party in question received, on the other hand, with a degree of good humor and cordiality that surprised and astounded our agent, Val, to tell the truth, felt rather queer; for, on comparing M’Loughlin’s nonchalance with the significant good humor of the new comers, he was too shrewd not to feel that there was a bit of mystery somewhere, but in what quarter he could not possibly guess.”

“Gentlemen,” said he, falling back upon his humanity, “the duties of an Agent are often painful, but still they must be discharged.  Lord Cumber, I must confess, has not been well advised, to force me to these proceedings.  Mr. M’Loughlin, I acknowledge I lost temper a while ago—­but the fact really is, that I proceed in this matter with great reluctance, notwithstanding what I said.  Here, however,” he added, turning to Easel, “is a horse of a different color.”

On speaking, he put his hand into his pocket, and pulling out the Hue and Cry of a certain date, read a description, and, as he advanced, he turned his eyes with singular sagacity and satisfaction upon the person and features of poor Easel.

“Browbeater was right,” said he; “you are here at full length in the Hue and Cry—­middle size—­of rather plausible carriage—­brown hair—­hazel eyes—­and a very knowing look—­the upper lip a good deal curled; which I see is the case; known to be in the possession of more money that ought to belong to a person in your condition—­and lastly, before you came here you were hawking high treason in the King’s County, in the character of a ballad-singer and vagabond.  You have expended sums of money among the poor of this neighborhood, with no good intention towards the government; and the consequence is that Whiteboyism has increased rapidly since you came amongst us.”