riors, and the scathing and greedy wits of the neighbourhood. I say, heaven shield, for I shan't. Antony, my dear, get the paper out of the drawer in the desk there."
Old Mr. Whyllie moved behind the captain and went to the desk. The captain moved toward Mrs. Whyllie.
"Stay where you are!" she ordered. "If you move again I shall fire."
"A likely tale!" he spluttered. "You wouldn't dare!"
"I can easily contradict you on that score," quickly remarked the old lady, and she pulled the trigger. The captain fell back upon the sofa, his pale face blackened with powder, his eyes blinded with smoke, and a sharp, pricking sensation in his left shoulder.
"My God!" he cried. "You've hit me."
"And shall do so again if you give me any more trouble," said the old lady, "and," she added, "next time I may aim to kill," and she took up another pistol from the mantelpiece. "You see, sir, we were quite prepared for you."
Then the lawyer set a table before him with pen and ink and requested him to sign a certain paper that he had already drawn up. This paper was addressed to the petty officer in charge of the press gang, and commanded that the young man of the name of Denis Cobtree should be driven immediately in a hired coach to the house of Antony Whyllie, attorney-at-law, Watchbell Street, who would give them further commands. To this paper Captain Tuffton signed his name. In-
