years ago, not of the most creditable nature,
and all the facts relating to which came before
me in the course of my official career, are not
only perfectly well known to me, but he knows
that I know of them, and is aware that I could
even at this day use them against him if I chose.
Consequently he is always exceedingly civil to
me, and when, in the course of a conversation between
us yesterday, I explained to him—assuming
as I did so a dangerous look, which I could
see had its effect—that I should take it exceedingly
ill if he did not at once consider this poor
woman's claim, and forthwith pay her what he
had owed to her husband, he turned very pale,
and informed me that since a person on whose
judgment he could so entirely rely as he could on
mine, was of opinion, after duly considering the
claim, that it was a just one, he would at once
give up his own view of the case, which had
certainly hitherto been opposed to mine, and
would without delay discharge the liability.
He only begged that he might be spared the
annoyance of a personal interview with his
creditor, and that I would undertake in my own
person to see the widow and transact the business
part of the arrangement myself.

"You know," continued Mr. Irwin, "how
interested I have always been in this poor soul's
case, and you will believe how readily I undertook
the charge. This very afternoon the business
is to be brought to a conclusion. I have
arranged to call on Harding (who as you know
lives close by) at three o'clock, to get the
money, and I will then convey it with my own
hands to the poor woman as a surprise."

"You have never done a better day's work,"
I said. " How do you mean to go?"

"I shall walk. It is not above a couple of
miles. The path across the fields by Gorfield
Copse is the nearest way, isn't it?"

"Yes, by a good deal," I answered. " Would
you like a companion?"

"Well, I should like one, certainly," was my
friend's answer, "but I feel a little delicacy
about introducing a stranger into the business
—either that with Mr. Harding himself, or
with my friend the widow, who is the proudest
and most sensitive woman in the world."

I assented to the justice of this objection,
and having some letters to write, got up to go,
leaving my friend sitting in the summer-house.
As I quitted it, turning sharply round to go
into the house, I came suddenly upon a man
who was emerging from among the shrubs
which formed the back of the little arbour.

He was an occasional helper about the place,
and I had noticed him more than once, and not
with favour. He was a very peculiar, and, as I
thought, a very ill-looking man. He was a shy,
slouching sort of creature, who always started
and got out of the way when you met him. A
man with hollow sunken eyes, a small mean
pinched sort of nose, and a prominent savage-
looking under jaw, with teeth like tusks, which
his beard did not always conceal. This beard,
by-the-by, was one of the most marked characteristics
of the man's appearance, it being—as
was his hair also—of that flaming red colour
which is not very often seen—really red, with
no pretensions to those auburn, or chesnut, or
golden tints which have become fashionable of
late years. The blazing effect of this man's
colouring was increased very much by the head-
dress he wore: an old cricketing cap of brightest
scarlet. He was otherwise dressed in one of
those short white canvas shirts or frocks
which are much worn by engineers, stokers,
and plasterers, over their ordinary clothes.
There was a great brown patch of new
material let into the front of this garment
which showed very conspicuously, even at a
distance. His lower extremities were clad in
common velveteen trousers, old and worn.

Such was the man who appeared suddenly
in my path as I left the summer-house, and who
disappeared as suddenly out of it a moment
after our encounter, gliding stealthily off in the
direction of the kitchen garden.

I saw my good friend Mr. Irwin once more
before he started on his beneficent errand.
He was in high spirits, and had got himself up
in great style for the occasion, with a light-
coloured summer over-coat, to keep off the
dust, and a white hat. I think he had a flower
in his button-hole.

There was one part of Mr. Irwin's equipment
a little out of the common way, and this was a
butterfly net fixed to the end of a stick. My
friend was a most enthusiastic entomologist,
and when in the country never stirred without
carrying with him this means of securing his
favourite specimens. I joked him a little on
the introduction of this unusual element into a
business transaction, suggesting that Mr. Harding
would think that he had brought it as a
receptacle for the widow's money. " I must
have it with me," said the old gentleman, " for
if I ever venture to go out without it I invariably
meet with some invaluable specimen which
escapes me in a heart-rending manner. But,"
he added, " I'm not going to let Harding discover
my weakness, you may be sure. I'll
leave it outside among the bushes, and recover
it when the interview is over."

"Well, good luck attend you any way," I
called after him, " a successful end to your
negotiations, and plenty of butterflies."

The good-hearted old fellow gave me a nod
and a smile, and, flourishing his net, was presently
off on his mission.

I had what we familiarly call "the fidgets"
that afternoon. I could not settle down to
anything. Having tried wandering about the
garden, I now took, in turn, to wandering
about the house, going first into one room and
then into another, looking at the pictures,
taking up different objects which lay about,
and examining them in an entirely purposeless
way.

At the top of my friend's house there was a
little room in a tower, which was used as a
smoking-room, and also as a kind of observatory:
my host being in the habit of observing
the heavenly bodies through his telescope
when favourable occasion offered. I remembered
the existence of this apartment now, and