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front door for? That was the question; and this question no sooner suggested itself to Judkins than he slipped out of bed, and commenced dressing. The chain, however, somewhat retarded his progress, for the key of the handcuff was not to be found; but he soon got over that: he slipped on his small clothes, his jacket, and shoes, and went down, of course with the chain.

The front door was open. That was what he expected, but which way had Sylvester gone? He thought he'd just look round the premises first, and he did so, but Sylvester could not be found. He then became in reality alarmed, and, having just latched the door, that he might let himself in again, went at once into the road. But which way should he go? It was clearly of no use his running to the right, if Sylvester had gone to the left. He heard footsteps in the distance, and on the instant started off in that direction, but found that they were those of a labouring man.

"Have you met a gentleman?" cried Judkins, in haste.

"Whoy—ees," replied the man, with provoking deliberation; "ah seed un aboot hafe a moile off."

"Which way was he going?"

"Whoy, ah didn't ax, boot a seemed to be goin to Holler Bell."

Away started Judkins on the Holworth road, as the man shouted out "He's goin moortal faist;" but, albeit he ran with all possible speed, Sylvester could not be seen. Still Judkins kept on, panting painfully, and, although he had, occasionally, a "stitch" in his side, he would not give up until he reached the Bell at Holworth, a mile and a half from the Grange. Here he stopped; and, as the house was still open, he went in at once, and inquired of the landlord if a gentleman had been there.

"I don't know," replied the landlord; "you'll find two or three in the parlour: you'd better look in."

Judkins looked in, but Sylvester was not there: still, feeling com- pletely exhausted, he called for a small glass of brandy and water, and sank upon a chair.

Every eye was upon him, of course, and more especially the eye of one man, who, as soon as the brandy and water had been brought, rose and said, "Ah, old fellow, how are you?"

"Pretty well," replied Judkins; "only I've been running. But, really, you have the advantage of me."

"Not at all," cried the stranger; "come, give us your hand; you'll shake hands with me, wont you?"

"Oh, I've no objection," said Judkins, who gave him his hand—the only hand he had disengaged, the other having been thrust into his pocket with the chain.

"What!" exclaimed the stranger; "the left hand! Is that the way you treat an old friend?"

"You're no old friend of mine," said Judkins, who began to feel very much embarrassed.

"Oh, yes I am," returned the stranger; "come, give us your right hand, man."