I hinted something of the kind to Fred, but he laughed at it, and in a few minutes we had a rush of morning customers, and all thoughts of Follet and his vengeance were banished from my mind.

I think that we were seated at breakfast, and wondering why Mr. Brown had been absent for such a length of time from the store, when who should pay us a visit but the police commissioner, Mr. Sherwin, a tall, dignified man, with a face that had no more expression in it than a piece of coal.  He was never known to lean to the side of mercy during the whole of his career as an officer, and as commissioner he had exclusive jurisdiction over the petty court of Ballarat, and fined and sentenced miners, who were brought before him for drunkenness and petty larceny, without mercy.  He was an ambitious man, and had striven for a long time to get a seat upon one of the benches of the upper courts in Melbourne, but owing to the want of influence, he had never succeeded.  Every person that he imagined could sway the governor-general was treated with delightful consideration; but a look blacker than a raven’s wing was the reward of every one who ventured on familiarity not up to his standard of excellence.

I must confess that I was surprised at the early visit of the commissioner, and I was still more astonished when I saw half a dozen policemen near the door, as though they were on business that they were ashamed of, and desired to keep out of sight; still, it never entered our minds that we were the parties that the policemen were watching.

Supposing that the commissioner wished to purchase some articles from our store, Fred went to attend upon him, while I continued to eat my breakfast.

“I want no goods, sir,” returned Mr. Sherwin, in a short, sharp tone, in reply to Fred’s question as to what he would be served with.

Fred appeared slightly disconcerted, and returned to his breakfast with an independent expression upon his face, that spoke more than words the contempt he felt for the visitor.

“You young men appear to be quite at your ease,” the commissioner said, surveying our indifference with no favorable eye.

“Why should we not be?” asked Fred; “we have a license for our store, we have paid for our goods, and owe no man a penny.”

“Does your license extend to killing and robbing men?” asked the commissioner, in an insolent tone, and one that we knew he used to insult us with.

Fred sprang to his feet, and an angry reply was upon his tongues, but I managed to check him.

“An explanation of these words is required,” I said, as mildly as my nature would allow; and to my surprise, instead of facing me, and answering, the commissioner pointed to the stains on the floor, and asked, in a sneering tone,—­

“Whose blood is that?”

“That of an old and helpless man,” I returned, bearing his searching glance without flinching, although I had an inward feeling that told me that we were standing in a suspicious attitude, and that one false move would wreck us both.