“One night the Colonel was in bed, and heard his door yield its lock, and open.
“You shall hear the rest in Tom’s words: —
“‘I knew that man was a coward, sir; so once in the house, and sure of his room, I knew I had him. I knew the bearings of the bed. I watched how the light fell two or three nights before. The moment I opened the door, I threw the light— carried a dark lantern — threw the light slap on his face. I saw him start. Did that man open his eyes? Deuce a bit J Slept as sound as tenpence. I laughed to myself. Why, if he had got up, it’d have been a fair struggle between us, and nabbed I certainly should ’a been. But deuce a bit did he stir. Colonel Badger, thinks I, I’ll badger you! Well, I walked slow up to him, with the lantern in one hand, and my pistol in the other, levelled at his head. There was he sleeping harder and harder. I couldn’t quite see his heart beat, but I’ll lay my life it galloped.’
“I will spare you Tom’s oaths.
“‘Well sir,’ he went on. ‘I’d half a mind at one moment, to do for him outright. For a coward who’s nothing better than a villain, what good’s he for, to live? Close down to his fore- head I put the muzzle of the pistol. It was tempting then. Just a hair, and he'd have had an extinguisher on his small candle! Lor, sir, his eyes was shut, but I’ll wager he saw it all as clear as day. And there was the prespiration a burstin’ out of his forehead, and rollin’ down his cheeks. I remember a large drop of prespiration on his nose! And he pretendin’ to sleep hard all the while! Why, the stoopid ass! did he think I didn’t know that a chap never sweated in his sleep? Leastways not natural sweat. Well! I kept at that, drawing the pistol away, and puttin’ of it close, for, I should think, forty minutes or more; but I took no account. I was cruel glad, to be sure, and he prespiring harder and harder. Not a move right or left. / didn’t speak. I thought to myself, “Oh you villain! I dare say you think yourself better than me, don’t you? And if you had me in your power, now, wouldn’t you let loose? But I ain’t such a coward as you! You shall bleed, my fine chap — in the pocket. That’ll do!” For, said Tom to me. I hadn’t come there and run the risk, only to frighten the Colonel Two birds at one blow was always my game. So by-and-bye,’ Tom pursued, ‘ when I thought I’d given my gentleman a pretty good sweat for the benefit of his health, I began to ransack. I knew the whereabouts of his desk, and things — collared the desk entire, and made as if I’d walk away. He had a chance then. The cowardly beast! There he stuck. He’d have liked to snore, just to persuade me he was a snoozin’! And such a fellow as that to go misleadin’ of young women! Ain’t it disgustin’, sir?’
“Tom was a bit of a moralist, you see.
“Well, the end of it was that Tom, after giving the Colonel another dose, made up his mind to quit the premises. ‘And I went, sir,’ said Tom. ‘Got off scot free. I just spoke these -words in a solemn voice. Colonel; whether you’re asleep, or whether you’re awake, just you keep quiet the next quarter of an hour, or you’re a dead man. I ain’t going yet, but my comrades is (I was all alone, sir, I never took a pal, if I could help it; but I thought T’d tell him so, the coward!) and I’ll stop outside the door, I says, till they’re safe. So mind your eye, I says. I’m in earnest. And then I touched his forehead with the cold iron and moved back, pointin’ at him still, and his face shinin’ with the cold sweat. He won’t forget that hour I give him, in a hurry. I knew very well he’d sleep on, bless you, and so he did, and I never heard nothin’ till a month ago, when they pounced on me for it, and here I am, goin’ to see foreign lands, thanks to you, Colonel. But you won’t forget me, so don’t try. And everybody’s talking of the story, for I outs with it at the trial neck and crop. I told it all about his sweatin’ and pretendin’ to sleep. I saw the people laugh. I’ll swear the judge enjoyed it, for all he looked that grave you’d think he was a owL Ha! ha! Mr. Colonel! that’s what I calls strikin’ as you fly. They’ll call you a coward in Old England; but they won’t call me one in Van Diemen.
And with this consolation Mr. Tom Clayper departed on his voyage. You will admit, gentlemen, that the Colonel’s night must have been sufficiently miserable.”
We all agreed that we did not envy the Colonel his position. Mr. Spence approved his conduct. The dealer in hops sided with Mr. Tom Clayper. Mr. Lorquison thought he should have given the alarm when the audacious burglar left the room. The H.E.I.C.S. was of opinion that Tom’s judg- ment on the Colonel was well grounded, and I took the side of those who have not been tried as the Colonel was.
Mr. Spence coughed — “Ahem!”
This, when stories are beginning to flow, is always taken for a sign of one coming in sequence. We were not disappointed.
A MOST EXCITING DRAMA.
“Well, gentlemen,” he commenced, without any Apropos, “you’ve given me some amusement, I’ll do my best in return. My story’s professional. You won’t object to that? In the law we hear and come across queer things. I give you warning I had nothing to do with this in question; but my agents in London — a highly respectable firm — were engaged in the inquiry. It was all in the papers some years ago, but I dare say you have forgotten it. And, after all, a story twice told may pass on a winter’s night.”
We applauded the observation, and bade him proceed.
“I’ll make it short,” said Mr. Spence. “It’s a drama in three acts — there’s blood in it; but don’t be alarmed, I beg.
“Act the First, then. I was fond of the play when I was a young man, articled in London. The scene opens in a dentist’s room in the West-End of London. Mr. Filey was a fashion- able dentist, with an exceedingly, what is called, gentlemanly appearance. You might have taken him for a baronet, and so might I. A carriage drove up to the house, and a lady carefully attired — West-End costume, and some of those women do look very captivating. I haven’t been in London now for four years, notwithstanding the railways; and when I do go it’s never to the