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HE basement of the Knoxport court-house, a small, smart affair, was used as the county bridewell. The room in which Jennison sat, with an official writing in a farther corner, was a good-sized, half-furnished place.

Jennison did not rise as Touchtone came in, followed by his guide. The latter stepped away to his companion's side and seemed to pay no attention to them.

"Good-evening; I'm obliged to you for coming down," Jennison began. He looked a trifle disheveled and haggard, and had that peculiar air of a criminal expecting the now inevitable course of justice. "Take a seat."

"The officer told me you wished to see me, and, particularly, alone," answered Philip, in mingled curiosity and disgust, as he found himself once more in the presence of so bold and adroit a foe. There came vividly back to