fellow-traveller, never suspecting him to be an Irishman. They chatted
together in the most agreeable manner, making no secret of their mission
to London, and letting drop a few facts which proved useful to the
counsel for the defence in the subsequent trial. Reaching London, they
asked the commercial "gent" to spend a social evening with them and some
of the witnesses in the case, which had some connection with the arms
intended for "Mr. Kershaw." He could not do so, he said, as he had a
previous engagement--which happened to be with Arthur Forrester and some
witnesses on the other side. But, he continued, he would be glad to see
them on the following day. Where could he see them? At Scotland Yard;
and at Scotland Yard, accordingly, he met them, where they showed him,
as an evidence of the desperate characters they had to deal with--his
own case of arms!

They told him of the pleasant evening he had missed, the only drawback
being, they said, that one of the witnesses, named Corydon, got drunk
and was very troublesome.

This reminds me of another case, in connection with which I, at the
time, fully expected to be arrested. The reader can form his own
conclusion, but my impression was, and is, that I owed my safety to a
gentleman I shall now introduce. Detective Superintendent Laurence
Kehoe, of Liverpool, was a very decent man in his way. He was by no
means of the type of John Boyle O'Reilly or the Breslins, who have shown
that in the British army and in the police force there have been men,
mostly compelled by adverse circumstances, who have for a time worn the
blue, or green, or scarlet coat of Britain without changing the Irish
heart beneath.

No; Larry (as he was generally called) was nothing of the kind. Still, I