servant in the chambers, and a third person was shown into the room.  That third person was Mr Bozzle.  As no name was given, Stanbury did not at first know Mr Bozzle, but he had not had his eye on Mr Bozzle for half a minute before he recognised the ex-policeman by the outward attributes and signs of his profession.  ‘Oh; is that you, Mr Bozzle?’ said Trevelyan, as soon as the great man had made his bow of salutation.  ‘Well what is it?’

‘Mr Hugh Stanbury, I think,’ said Bozzle, making another bow to the young barrister.

‘That’s my name,’ said Stanbury.

’Exactly so, Mr S. The identity is one as I could prove on oath in any court in England.  You was on the railway platform at Exeter on Saturday when we was waiting for the 12 express ‘buss wasn’t you now, Mr S?’

‘What’s that to you?’

’Well as it do happen, it is something to me.  And, Mr S, if you was asked that question in any court in England or before even one of the metropolitan bekes, you wouldn’t deny it.’

‘Why the devil should I deny it?  What’s all this about, Trevelyan?’

’Of course you can’t deny it, Mr S. When I’m down on a fact, I am down on it.  Nothing else wouldn’t do in my profession.’

‘Have you anything to say to me, Mr Bozzle?’ asked Trevelyan.

‘Well I have; just a word.’

‘About your journey to Devonshire?’

’Well in a way it is about my journey to Devonshire.  It’s all along of the same job, Mr Trewillian.’

‘You can speak before my friend here,’ said Trevelyan.  Bozzle had taken a great dislike to Hugh Stanbury, regarding the barrister with a correct instinct as one who was engaged for the time in the same service with himself and who was his rival in that service.  When thus instigated to make as it were a party of three in this delicate and most confidential matter, and to take his rival into his confidence, he shook his head slowly and looked Trevelyan hard in the face.  ’Mr Stanbury is my particular friend,’ said Trevelyan, ’and knows well the circumstances of this unfortunate affair.  You can say anything before him.’

Bozzle shook his head again.  ‘I’d rayther not, Mr Trewillian,’ said he.  ‘Indeed I’d rayther not.  It’s something very particular.’

‘If you take my advice,’ said Stanbury, ’you will not hear him yourself.’

‘That’s your advice, Mr S.?’ asked Mr Bozzle.

’Yes that’s my advice.  I’d never have anything to do with such a fellow as you as long as I could help it.’

’I dare say not, Mr S.; I dare say not.  We’re hexpensive, and we’re haccurate—­neither of which is much in your line, Mr S., if I understand about it rightly.’

‘Mr Bozzle, if you’ve got anything to tell, tell it,’ said Trevelyan, angrily.

‘A third party is so objectionable,’ pleaded Bozzle.

‘Never mind.  That is my affair.’

’It is your affair, Mr Trewillian.  There’s not a doubt of that.  The lady is your wife.’