flanked the former, and Coristine and Mr. Perrowne the latter.  Mrs. Du Plessis sat between Carruthers and Mr. Thomas; Miss Halbert between the minister and Mr. Perrowne; Miss Du Plessis between the dominie and the doctor; and Miss Carmichael between Coristine and the colonel.  Mrs. Carruthers, who occupied one end of the table, had the colonel on her right, and her sister-in-law, who took the other end, was supported in the same way by the host.  Squire Walker, a portly man, but not too heavy for exercise, with a baldish head and large reddish whiskers, sporting a velveteen shooting coat, high shirt collar, and large blue silk scarf with white spots, was a man of much intelligence and a good talker.  His conversation compelled attention, and, like the glittering eye of the ancient mariner, held, now Mr. Perrowne and now the lawyer from much pleasanter ones with their respective ladies.  He seemed to take a fiendish pleasure in capturing Wilkinson from Miss Du Plessis, and the Captain from her mother, and even sent his conversational shafts far off to the Squire and the doctor, and to the presiding matrons.  Mr. Errol and the colonel were happily sheltered from him.  Perhaps the new detective perceived the state of unrest and terrible suspense in which many of the company were on account of Squire Walker’s vagaries, and chivalrously sought to deliver them.  Eyeing keenly the autocrat of the breakfast table, he remarked, “I’m afraid you heve fergotten me, Squire?”

“Don’t think I ever had the pleasure of your acquaintance, sir.”

“Oh, perdon me, you hed though.  Two years ago, a large, stout, heavy bearded men kem to yore ohffice, with a yeng Cuban who could herdly speak a word of Inglish, asking you to commit him fer smeggling cigars—­”

“Haw! haw! haw!” laughed Mr. Walker, “and you were the bearded man were you, eh?”

“Do please favour us with the whole story, Mr. Bangs,” asked the hostess.

“Go on, Bangs,” added its victim, “I don’t mind, haw! haw!”

“The Squire asked the big revenue detective how he knew the cigars were smeggled, and he said that nobody could pay the duty and sell these cigars for seven dollars a hendred.  The Squire asked to see the cigars, and while the pore yeng Cuban with the bleck mousteche stood twirling his sombrero and looking guilty, he took one, smilt it, and then smouked it.  He said to the big detective, ’I won’t let you hev a warrent for that pore foreigner on any sech evidence, for I ken bey the very same cigar at Beamish’s for five dollars.’  The detective said, ’Are you shore the cigar is the same?’ when the Squire pulled a drawer open end brought out a box of the identical erticles.  Then, the big men thenked him, hended him a revenue card, end took the pore Cuban away.  Next day Beamish’s was raided, end Nesh and I kem in for quite a rewerd.”

“Then the detective was Nash?” asked Mr Walker.

“Yes, Nesh, with a big men’s clowthes on, padded out.”