It was ghastly work propping up the dead murderer’s shoulders in the shell, and placing a rest for his head.  The jaw had been tied up, but the eyes would not close; yet, staring though the face was, it was not a repulsive one.  The ordinary observer could not read what Bangs saw there, greed and hypocrisy, envy, treachery, murder.  While Miss Du Plessis went on calmly sketching, the other girls turned their heads away.  No one cared to break the stillness by a word.  The detective went out and secured the services of Styles to accompany the ladies home, and remain at Bridesdale till the armed band returned.  Then he went over to the shell in which the body of his brother detective lay, and, nobody looking at him, allowed himself the luxury of a few tears, a silent tribute to the man he honoured.  When the sketch was completed, he warmly thanked the artist, and told her that he never would have dreamt of proposing such a task, but for his desire to do justice to his dead friend, whom an informer named Flower had greatly injured in the department.  The department had faith in his cleverness all along, but suspicions had been cast upon his honesty, which embittered his days, along with troubles that were then only known to himself.

Bangs was not a detective, but a man of warm, brotherly heart, as he told the tale of the outwardly always cheerful, but inwardly sore-hearted, Nash, cut off in the midst of his years and usefulness.  Then old Styles appeared, and, with a salute, the detective mounted and rode away to join the forces in front, while the ladies journeyed homeward.  Mr. Bangs soliloquized as he rode rapidly on.  “Boys read detective stories, and think our life an enviable one.  They dowte on the schemes, the plots and counterplots, the risks, the triumphs, and look beyond to fame and rewerd, but they know nothing of the miserable envies and jealousies, the sespicions, the checks and counterchecks, and the demnable policy of the depertment, encouraging these irresponsible informers, dem ’em, to break up all legitimate business and merder honest men.  O Nesh, my pore dead friend, yo’re avenged in a wey, bet who’s going to avenge yore pore sister, and even this devil of a Flower or Herding, whose death lies at the door of that greater devil of a Rawdon?”

The expedition was waiting for him at Richards’, the colonel in command.  The scow had departed in charge of the captain, who had orders to do nothing to the barrier till he heard a signal shot; then he was to respond with the unmistakable blunderbuss, and batter down the obstruction.  Squire Walker, Mr. Perrowne, and Maguffin had patrolled, without meeting even a passing team or wayfarer; but the colonel judged it best to get off the road without delay.  Accordingly the waggons were left in Richards’ shed, and the infantry doubled forward after the colonel and Bangs.  When the rocky ascent was reached, over which the fugitives of the night before had clambered, a halt was called, and the colonel gave Dr. Halbert