“Lookee there now,” cried Crawley.

“I choked the ferret off, but never touched the rabbit.  I took the rabbit with a pair of tongs; the others had handled their baits and pug crept round ’em and nosed the trick.  I poured twenty drops of croton oil into the little hole ferret had made in bunny’s head, and I dropped him in the grass near pug’s track.  Next morning rabbit had been drawn about twenty yards and the hole in his head was three times as big.  Pug went the nearest way to blood; went in at ferret’s hole.  I knew he would.”

“Yes, sir! yes! yes! yes! and there lay the fox.”

“No signs of him.  Then I said:  ’Go to the nearest water.  Croton oil makes ’em dry.’  They went along the brook—­and on the very bank there lay an old dog-fox blown up like bladder, as big as a wolf and as dead as a herring.  Now for the Jew.  Look at that;” and he threw him a paper.

“Why, this is the judgment on which I arrested Will Fielding, and here is the acceptance.”

“Levi bought them to take the man out of my power.  He left them with old Cohen.  I have got them again, you see, and got young Fielding in my power spite of his foxy friend.”

“Capital, sir, capital!” cried the admiring Crawley.  He then looked at the reconquered documents.  “Ah!” said he, spitefully, “how I wish I could alter one of these names, only one!”

“What d’ye mean?”

“I mean that I’d give fifty pound (if I had it) if it was but that brute George Fielding that was in our power instead of this fool William.”

Meadows opened his eyes:  “Why?”

“Because he put an affront upon me,” was the somewhat sulky reply.

“What was that?”

“Oh, no matter, sir!”

“But it is matter.  Tell me.  I am that man’s enemy.”

“Then I am in luck.  You are just the enemy I wish him.”

“What was the affront?”

“He called me a pettifogger.”

“Oh, is that all?”

“No.  He discharged me from visiting his premises.”

“That was not very polite.”

“And threatened to horsewhip me next time I came there.”

“Oh, is that where the shoe pinches?”

“No, it is not!” cried Crawley, almost in a shriek; “but he altered his mind, and did horsewhip me then and there.  Curse him!”

Meadows smiled grimly.  He saw his advantage.  “Crawley,” said he, quickly, “he shall rue the day he lifted his hand over you.  You want to see to the bottom of me.”

“Oh, Mr. Meadows, that is too far for the naked eye to see,” was the despondent reply.

“Not when it suits my book.  I am going to keep my promise and show you my heart.”

“Ah!”

“Listen and hear the secret of my life.  Are you listening?”

“What do you think, sir?” was the tremulous answer.

“I—­love—­Miss—­Merton;” and for once his eyes sank before Crawley’s.

“Sir! you—­love—­a—­woman?”