The bier followed the ranks of the police, who had turned to the right.

Just at that moment the head of the procession stopped.

Ursus heard the grating of a key.

Opposite the prison, in the low wall which ran along the other side of the street, another opening was illuminated by a torch which passed beneath it.

This gate, over which a death's head was visible, was that of the cemetery.

The wapentake passed through it, then the men, then the second torch. The procession decreased therein, like a reptile entering his

retreat.

The files of police penetrated into that other darkness which was beyond the gate, then the bier, then the man with the spade, then the chaplain with his torch and his book, and the door was closed.

There was nothing left but a haze of light above the wall.

A muttering was heard. Then some dull sounds. Without doubt it was the chaplain and the grave-digger. The one throwing on the coffin some verses of Scripture, the other some clods of earth.

The muttering ceased; the heavy sounds ceased. A movement was made. The torches shone. The wapentake re-appeared, holding high his weapon, under the re-opened gate of the cemetery; the chaplain with his book, the gravedigger with his spade. The cortége re-appeared without the coffin.

The files of men crossed over in the same order, with the same taciturnity, and in the opposite direction. The gate of the cemetery closed. That of the prison opened. Its sepulchral architecture stood out against the light. The obscurity of the corridor became vaguely visible. The solid and deep night of the jail was revealed to sight; then the whole vision disappeared in depths of shadow.

The knell ceased. All was locked by silence. A sinister incarceration of shadows.

Of the vanished vision nothing remained but this.

A passage of spectres, who had disappeared.

The logical arrangement of surmises builds up something which at least resembles evidence. To the arrest of Gwynplaine, to the secret mode of his capture, to the return of his garments by the police officer, to this death bell of the prison to which he had been conducted, was now added, or rather adjusted,-portentous circumstance-a coffin carried to the grave.

"He is dead!" cried Ursus.

He sank down upon a stone.

"Dead! They have killed him! Gwynplaine! My child! My

son !"

And he burst into passionate sobs.

CHAPTER IV.

STATE POLICY DEALS RETAIL AS WELL AS WHOLESALE.

URSUS, alas! had boasted that he had never wept. The reservoir of tears was full. Such plenitude as is accumulated drop on drop, sorrow on sorrow, through a long existence, is not to be poured out in a moment. Ursus wept a long time.

He wept for Gwynplaine, He wept like a child. He

The first tear is a letting out of waters. for Dea, for himself, Ursus, for Homo. wept like an old man. He wept for all at which he had ever before laughed. He paid off arrears. Man is never nonsuited when he pleads his right to tears.

The corpse they had just buried was Hardquanonne; but Ursus could not know that.

Many hours crept on.

Day began to break. The pale cloth of the morning was spread out, dimly creased with shadow, over the bowling-green. The dawn lighted up the front of the Tadcaster Inn. Master Nicless had not gone to bed, because sometimes the same occurrence produces sleeplessness in many.

Troubles radiate in every direction. and count the splashes.

Throw a stone in the water,

Master Nicless felt himself impeached. It is very disagreeable that such things should happen in one's house. Master Nicless, uneasy, and foreseeing misfortunes, meditated. He regretted having received such people into his house. Had he but known they would end by getting him into mischief! But the question was, how to get rid of them? He had given Ursus a lease. What a blessing if he I could free himself from it. How should he set to work to drive them out?

Suddenly came at the door of the inn one of those tumultuous knockings which in England announces "Somebody." The gamut of knocking corresponds with the ladder of hierarchy.

This one was not quite the knock of a lord; but it was the knock of a justice.

The innkeeper, trembling, half opened his window.

There was

the magistrate, in truth. Master Nicless perceived at his door a body of police, from the head of which two men detached themselves, one of whom was the justice of the quorum.

Master Nicless had seen the justice of the quorum that morning, and recognised him.

He did not know the other.

It was a fat gentleman, with a waxen-coloured face, a fashionable wig, and a travelling cloak. Nicless was much afraid of the first of these persons, the justice of the quorum. Had he been of the court, he would have feared the second most, because it was Barkilphedro.

One of the subordinates struck the door a second time, violently.

The innkeeper, with great drops of sweat on his brow, from anxiety, opened it.

The justice of the quorum, in the tone of a man who has been employed in police matters, and is well acquainted with various shades of vagrancy, elevated his voice, and demanded, severely,— "Master Ursus!"

"I know not."

"How is that?"

"He has not come in."

"Then he must have gone out very early?"

"No; but he went out very late."

"What vagabonds!" replied the justice.

"Your honour," said Master Nicless, softly, "here he comes."

Ursus, indeed, had just come in

sight, round a turn of the He had passed nearly the

wall. He was returning to the inn. whole night between the jail, where at midday he had seen Gwynplaine, and the cemetery, where at midnight he had heard the grave filled up. He was pallid with two pallors-that of sorrow and of twilight.

Dawn, the larva of light, leaves even those forms which it touches in part shadow.

Ursus, wan and preoccupied, walked slowly, like a man in a dream. In that wild distraction produced by agony of mind, he had left the inn with his head bare. He had not even found out that he had no hat on. His spare, grey locks fluttered in the wind. seemed to be sightless. Often when awake we are often when asleep we are awake.

Ursus looked like a lunatic.

His open eyes asleep, and as

"Master Ursus," cried the innkeeper, "come; their honours desire to speak to you."

Master Nicless, occupied solely by the effort to soften down the occurrence, let slip, although he would gladly have omitted, this plural, their honours respectful to the group, but mortifying, perhaps, to the chief, confounded thereby, in some degree, with his subordinates.

Ursus started like one precipitated off a bed, on which he was soundly sleeping.

"What is the matter?" said he.

He perceived the police, and at the head of the police the justice. A fresh and rough shock.

Just now the wapentake, now the justice of the quorum. He seemed to have been cast from one to the other, as ships were by some reefs of which we have read in old stories.

The justice of the quorum made him a sign to enter the tavern. Ursus obeyed.

Govicum, who had just risen, and who was sweeping the room, stopped, got into a corner behind the tables, put down his broom, and held his breath. He plunged his fist into his hair, and scratched his head, a symptom which indicated attention to events.

The justice of the quorum seated himself on a form, before a table. Barkilphedro took a chair. Ursus and Master Nicless remained standing. The police officers, left without, crowded before the closed door.

The justice of the quorum fixed his eye of the law on Ursus. He said,—

"You have a wolf?"

Ursus answered,

"Not exactly."

"You have a wolf?" continued the justice, emphasising wolf with a decided accent.

"A misdemeanor !" replied the justice.

Ursus hazarded this excuse,

"He is my servant.”

The justice placed his hand flat on the table, with his fingers spread out, which is a very fine gesture of authority.

'Merry Andrew! to-morrow, at this hour, you and your wolf must have left England. If not, the wolf will be seized, carried to the register-office, and killed."

Ursus thought,

66 more murder;" but he breathed not a syllable, and contented himself with trembling in every limb.

"You hear?" said the justice.

Ursus nodded.

The justice persisted,

"Killed."

There was silence.

"Strangled, or drowned."

The justice of the quorum watched Ursus.

"And yourself in prison."

Ursus murmured,

"Your worship!"

"Be off before to-morrow morning; if not, such is the order." "Your worship!"

"What?

"Must we leave England, he and I?”

"Yes."

"To-day ?"

"To-day."

"What is to be done?"

Master Nicless was happy. The magistrate, whom he had feared, had come to his aid. The police had acted as auxiliary to him, Nicless. They delivered him from "such people." The means he had sought were brought to him. Ursus, whom he wanted to get rid of, was being driven away by the police, a superior authority. Nothing to object to. He was delighted. He interrupted,

He pointed to Ursus with his finger.

"That man wants to know how he is to leave England to-day. Nothing can be easier. There are night and day at anchor on the Thames, on this as well as on the other side of London Bridge, vessels that pass over to the continent. They go from England to Denmark, to Holland, to Spain; not to France, on account of the war, but everywhere else. To-night several ships will sail, about one