For a second--no longer--a wicked soul looked blackly out of the face to
which he had raised his eyes. Then the window shut, and the wall was blank
again. Without any change in his listless demeanor, the schoolmaster laid
his left hand, palm out, beside his right.

"Humph!" exclaimed Haward. "So you have stolen before to-night? The marks
are old. When were you branded, and where?"

"In Bristol, fifteen years ago," answered the man unblushingly. "It was
all a mistake. I was as innocent as a newborn babe"--

"But unfortunately could not prove it," interrupted Haward. "That is of
course. Go on."

"I was transported to South Carolina, and there served out my term. The
climate did not suit me, and I liked not the society, nor--being of a
peaceful disposition--the constant alarms of pirates and buccaneers. So
when I was once more my own man I traveled north to Virginia with a party
of traders. In my youth I had been an Oxford servitor, and schoolmasters
are in demand in Virginia. Weighed in the scales with a knowledge of the
humanities and some skill in imparting them, what matters a little mishap
with hot irons? My patrons are willing to let bygones be bygones. My
school flourishes like a green bay-tree, and the minister of this parish
will speak for the probity and sobriety of my conduct. Now I will go,
sir."

He made an awkward but deep and obsequious reverence, turned and went out
of the door, passing Juba, who was entering with a salver laden with bread
and meat and a couple of bottles. "Put down the food, Juba," said Haward,