'ud be ill-becoming a man in a parish office to fly out again' King
George."

While these discussions were going on amongst the group outside the
Rainbow, a higher consultation was being carried on within, under
the presidency of Mr. Crackenthorp, the rector, assisted by Squire
Cass and other substantial parishioners. It had just occurred to
Mr. Snell, the landlord--he being, as he observed, a man
accustomed to put two and two together--to connect with the
tinder-box, which, as deputy-constable, he himself had had the
honourable distinction of finding, certain recollections of a pedlar
who had called to drink at the house about a month before, and had
actually stated that he carried a tinder-box about with him to light
his pipe. Here, surely, was a clue to be followed out. And as
memory, when duly impregnated with ascertained facts, is sometimes
surprisingly fertile, Mr. Snell gradually recovered a vivid
impression of the effect produced on him by the pedlar's countenance
and conversation. He had a "look with his eye" which fell
unpleasantly on Mr. Snell's sensitive organism. To be sure, he
didn't say anything particular--no, except that about the
tinder-box--but it isn't what a man says, it's the way he says it.
Moreover, he had a swarthy foreignness of complexion which boded
little honesty.

"Did he wear ear-rings?" Mr. Crackenthorp wished to know, having
some acquaintance with foreign customs.

"Well--stay--let me see," said Mr. Snell, like a docile
clairvoyante, who would really not make a mistake if she could help
it. After stretching the corners of his mouth and contracting his