between Bozzle and his employer.  To give the ex-policeman his due, he had not at first wished to meddle in the matter of the child.  He had a wife at home who expressed an opinion with much vigour that the boy should be left with its mother, and that he, Bozzle, should he succeed in getting hold of the child, would not know what to do with it.  Bozzle was aware, moreover, that it was his business to find out facts, and not to perform actions.  But his employer had become very urgent with him.  Mr Bideawhile had positively refused to move in the matter; and Trevelyan, mad as he was, had felt a disinclination to throw his affairs into the hands of a certain Mr Skint, of Stamford Street, whom Bozzle had recommended to him as a lawyer.  Trevelyan had hinted, moreover, that if Bozzle would make the application in person, that application, if not obeyed, would act with usefulness as a preliminary step for further personal measures to be taken by himself.  He intended to return to England for the purpose, but he desired that the order for the child’s rendition should be made at once.  Therefore Bozzle had come.  He was an earnest man, and had now worked himself up to a certain degree of energy in the matter.  He was a man loving power, and specially anxious to enforce obedience from those with whom he came in contact by the production of the law’s mysterious authority.  In his heart he was ever tapping people on the shoulder, and telling them that they were wanted.  Thus, when he displayed his document to Mr Outhouse, he had taught himself at least to desire that that document should be obeyed.

Mr Outhouse read the paper and turned up his nose at it.  ’You had better go away,’ said he, as he thrust it back into Bozzle’s hand.

‘Of course I shall go away when I have the child.’

‘Psha!’ said Mr Outhouse.

’What does that mean, Mr Houthouse?  I presume you’ll not dispute the paternal parent’s legal authority?’

‘Go away, sir,’ said Mr Outhouse.

‘Go away!’

‘Yes out of this house.  It’s my belief that you’re a knave.’

‘A knave, Mr Houthouse?’

’Yes a knave.  No one who was not a knave would lend a hand towards separating a little child from its mother.  I think you are a knave, but I don’t think you are fool enough to suppose that the child will he given up to you.’

‘It’s my belief that knave is hactionable,’ said Bozzle whose respect, however, for the clergyman was rising fast.  ’Would you mind ringing the bell, Mr Houthouse, and calling me a knave again before the young woman?’

‘Go away,’ said Mr Outhouse.

’If you have no objection, sir, I should be glad to see the lady before I goes.’