"The Ten Tramps. I dare wager that Jim
Riley and his wife are in that house," said
Mr. Choop. "It is a notorious gathering-
place for all the rogues in the district."

Mr. Choop descended, and he and Timothy
held secret council for some minutes. Then
Timothy opened a small bundle—brought
all the way from Newstone—and
proceeded, with much gravity, to induct
himself into a waggoner's blue smock-frock,
plentifully braided and buttoned, after the
fashion in which waggoners delight. He next
turned up the bottoms of his fustian trowsers,
so as to bring into more prominent view his
laced-up boots; then he gave his hat a push
back and his hair a pull forward, and set
off at a swinging pace in the direction of
the Ten Tramps, whistling the Plough-boy
as he goes. Mr. Choop and I passed the next
half-hour together, smoking cigars and
discussing various matters, with a glance over
the hillock every two or three minutes in the
direction of the inn.

"Why not wait till night," I asked Mr.
Choop, "when you could approach the inn
without being seen?"

"Because, after dark, we should be
pretty sure of finding half-a-dozen rough
customers there, who would make the matter
awkward."

"Then why not take half-a-dozen men with
you, so as to avoid all risk?"

"What credit would there be in that?
When Timothy and I fail, it will be time
enough to talk about calling in other assistance.
There he is!"

Timothy was lounging against the door-post,
smoking a long clay-pipe. While we were
watching him, he took off his hat, and
scratched his head vigorously; a second time;
and a third time.

"All right!" said Mr. Choop. "That was
the signal. Lend me your cap, Fred, and you
take my hat; I don't want Riley to recognise
me till I get into the house."

Having made the transfer, we set off, Mr.
Choop walking with an assumed limp.

Timothy was still smoking his pipe at the
door when we reached the inn.

"Foine day, master."

"Very fine, my man," replied Mr. Choop.
"What sort of a tap have you got here?"

"Oh, toidyish. You'll foind the landlord
somewhere insoide. All the women-folk seem
to be gone out somewhere."

"Two glasses of your best ale, landlord,"
exclaimed Mr. Choop to a burly red-headed
man with a villanous countenance, who came
forward, scowling suspiciously. The landlord's
back was hardly turned before a quick
whisper was exchanged between Timothy and
Mr. Choop. We were lighting our cigars
when the landlord returned with the ale. He
showed us into a small room, and we left
the countryman still smoking at the door.
He seemed to be a thirsty soul, this countryman,
for he called for glass after glass rapidly,
as if fully determined on getting drunk in
the shortest possible time. He drank so
much that the landlord's big jug was at last
exhausted, and he lighted a candle to go down
into the cellar to draw more ale. Hardly
had the landlord reached the bottom of the
cellar-steps, before the door was quietly locked
behind him.

Mr. Choop's apathy vanished in a moment.
His eyes flashed, his teeth glistened, he looked
dangerous. "Go you into the garden," he
whispered to me, "and take your stand below
the window on the left. If Jim Riley jumps
out—though I don't think he'll have time—
lay hold of him, and stick to him till I come.
Now, Tim, quick and silent!" Mr. Choop
and Timothy, each pulling out an ugly-
looking staff, crept up-stairs as stealthily
as two burglars, while I hastened into the
garden.

A mingled noise of shouting and oaths,
crowned by a woman's wild shriek, the
crash of a falling table, and then the window
was flung up, and Mr. Darke dashing madly
through, followed closely by Choop. They
came to the ground almost together, and
rolled over in a fierce struggle. But Mr.
Darke, twice as strong as his opponent, was
uppermost, sitting astride of Mr. Choop. Only
for one moment; for, the next, my arms
were round his neck. I gave him a sudden
pull back, with all my strength. Choop, now
on his feet, whipped out his handcuffs, and
had Mr. Darke safe and fast before that
individual could recover his breath.

At this moment Timothy appeared, escorting
Mrs. Riley, as I suppose she ought to be
called; and carrying, with much care, the
small black portmanteau. Mr. Choop opened
it, and I perceived it to be half-full of watches,
rings, pins, and jewellery of various kinds.
The woman's veil, now thrown back, showed
me the midnight traveller, minus the
moustache; a bold, forward-looking, good-featured
woman, bearing her misfortune with a
haughty indifference that excited Timothy's
admiration.

The landlord, kicking at his cellar-door,
and calling to be let out, long before this,
was released by Timothy; and very blank
he looked when he beheld how his guests had
suddenly come to grief. By Mr. Choop's
orders he brought out his horse and a light
cart, and we drove back, through the darkening
afternoon, to Fulwood.

Through Mr. Choop's indefatigable exertions,
the whole of the gang of burglars was
speedily captured. One ol them turned
queen's evidence; and it then came out that
Mr. Riley was the planner only of the
burglaries in which they had all been engaged
for some time back; it being his duty to pick
out the premises to be robbed, to make plans
of them, and arrange the details of the attack,
leaving to others the merely mechanical part
of the business, and receiving a certain share
of the proceeds for his part of the labour.