"  Mr.  Tickletrout,  the  celebrated  officer — thief-taker,  as  they
call  it.  Have  a  care,  Ma'am,  the  pistols  are  loaded.  I  see  the
chaise  is  out — there's  the  reckoning,  landlord."

"O  Lord  !  I'm  sure  I  don't  want  any  reckoning — too  great  an
honor  for  my  poor  house  to  be  favored  with  your  company  ;
but  (following  the  little  man  to  the  door)  whom  did  you  please
to  say  you  were  going  to  catch  !  "

"Mr.  Crauford,  alias  Dr.  Stapylton."

"  Lord !  Lord  ! — to  think  of  it — how  slaocking !  What  has
he  done?"

"Swindled,  I  believe."

"  My  eyes  !  And  why,  sir,  did  not  you  catch  him  when  he
was  in  the  bar?"

"Because  then  I  should  not  have  got  paid  for  my  journey  to
Dover.     Shut  the  door,  boy  ;  first  stage  on  to  Canterbury."

And,  drawing  a  woollen  night-cap  over  his  ears,  Mr.  Tickle-
trout  resigned  himself  to  his  nocturnal  excursion.
On  the  very  day  on  which  the  patent  for  his  peerage  was  to
have  been  made  out — on  the  very  day  on  which  he  had  after-
wards calculated  on  reaching  Paris — on  that  very  day  was  Mr.
Richard  Crauford  lodged  in  Newgate,  fully  committed  for  a
trial  of  life  and  death.
CHAPTER  LXXXni.
