officers of the court approaching the disturber of its tranquillity with
no friendly intent. The man, aware of the purpose of the constable,
exclaimed with great vehemence, "I vill give this to my lord the judge,
blow me if I von't!" and as he spoke he raised high above his head a
soiled scrap of paper folded awkwardly in the shape of a letter. The
instant Brandon's eye caught the rugged features of the intrusive
stranger, he motioned with rather less than his usual slowness of gesture
to one of his official satellites. "Bring me that paper instantly!" he
whispered.

The officer bowed and obeyed. The man, who seemed a little intoxicated,
gave it with a look of ludicrous triumph and self-importance.

"Stand avay, man!" he added to the constable, who now laid hand on his
collar. "You'll see vot the judge says to that 'ere bit of paper; and so
vill the prisoner, poor fellow!"

This scene, so unworthy the dignity of the court, attracted the notice
and (immediately around the intruder) the merriment of the crowd; and
many an eye was directed towards Brandon, as with calm gravity he opened
the note and glanced over the contents. In a large school-boy hand-it
was the hand of Long Ned--were written these few words:

MY LORD JUDGE,--I make bold to beg you will do all you can for the
prisoner at the barre, as he is no other than the "Paul" I spoke to
your Worship about. You know what I mean.

DUMMIE DUNNAKER.