over, he arose, and, without a note of warning, doubled up the stiff guardian of the peace, and made for the door, where he fell into the arms of the incoming Serlizer.  She evidently thought that Mark Davis, smitten with her charms, was about to salute her, for, with the words “Scuse me!” and a double turn of her powerful wrists, she deposited the assailant upon the floor.  Sadly, but officially, the constable crawled over and sat upon the prostrate form of the would-be fugitive from justice.  The prisoner squirmed, and even struck the doubled-up corporal, but the entrance of Ben Toner put an end to that nonsense, so that, handcuffed and chained once more, the desperate villain was hauled into the presence of the magistrates.  In dignified, but subordinate, language, Mr. Rigby related the prisoner’s escapade, and, by implication, more than by actual statement, gave the J.P.s to understand that they knew nothing about the management of offenders against the law.  They were, therefore, compelled to allow the handcuffs to remain, but summoned sufficient courage to insist on the removal of the stable chains.

“What is your name, prisoner?” asked Squire Carruthers.

“Samuel Wilson,” answered the man.

“Oh! kem now,” interposed Mr. Bangs, “thet’s a lie, you know; yore name is Merk Devis, end yore a brether of Metthew Devis of the Peskiwenchow tevern, end you were Rawdon’s right hend men.  We know you, my led, so down’t you try any alias games on us.”

“Ef you know my name so mighty well, what do you want askin’ for’t?”

“To see if you can speak the truth,” replied Carruthers.

“What other prisoners hev you got asides me?”

“That is none of your business,” said the Squire.

“If I might be ellowed to seggest, Squire,” whispered the detective, “I think I’d tell him.  Whet do you sey?”

“Go on, Mr. Bangs.”

“Well, my fine fellow, the Squire ellows me to sey thet the ethers are Newcome, the stowne ketters, and the women.”

The name of Newcome disconcerted Mark, but he asked, “Whar’s Rawdon and old Flower?”

“Didn’t you see?” asked Mr. Bangs.

“I seen the fire all right, but they wasn’t such blame fools as to stay there when there was a way out up atop.”

“The epper wey wes clowsed,” said the detective.

“Was they burned alive then?”

“Yes, they were berned to eshes.”

“O Lord!” ejaculated the prisoner, and then, wildly:  “What do you want along of me anyway?”

The magistrates and Mr. Bangs consulted, after which the doctor answered:  “We want information from you on three points:  first, as to the attempt of Rawdon’s gang to burn this house; second, as to the murder of Detective Nash; and, third, as to the whole secret of Rawdon’s business at the Select Encampment.  You are not bound to incriminate yourself, as every word of this preliminary examination may be used against you, but, on the other hand, if you make a clean breast of what you know on these questions, your confession will go a long way in your favour with judge and jury.”