A Moorland Legend. 115 



soon as the candles were lighted, to have a night of exhaustive 

 gossip. Each new comer stamped harder and harder on 

 the outer door-mat, for the twilight had brought a blinding 

 downfall of whirling snow. 



" That poor devil who's out of quarters to-night will wish 

 himself back again," remarked the postmaster, pointing with 

 his pipe-stem over his shoulder to the north. 



" Egad, he will," chimed in one of the commercial gentle- 

 men. "What is he?" 



" W/tat is he ? " repeated Mr. Sullivan. " It must be a 

 clever man to answer that unless the bird's been brought 

 back to cage. If you mean WJio is he, I can tell you." 



Some of the company said, "Ah ! do ; " others, " Oh ! 

 thanks ; " others, " Your health, Mr. Sullivan." All sipped 

 their liquors and listened. 



"Number Ninety-six was rather a curious case," the off- 

 duty warder began. "He was a tall, strong-shouldered 

 young man, straight as a poplar, and when they had cut off 

 his beard he looked as beautiful as a woman. We've con- 

 siderably over a thousand convicts on the books just now, 

 and thirty of them are what are called gentlemen. Number 

 Ninety-six, however, was the most genuine of the whole set. 

 We find some of your real high-born gentlemen cutting up 

 very roughly ; directly the veneer is peeled off you have 

 a very ugly description of timber indeed to look at. Ninety- 

 six is real grit though, and everybody is puzzled at his going 

 off in this manner. But that is by the way. I said I could 

 tell you who he is. Well, he's the son of old Sir Simon 

 Tolly, the banker, and he was convicted of forging deeds 

 and wills and other papers to an enormous extent. Of 

 course you know everything now, as I thought you would 

 when I mentioned the name ; that affair, anyhow, wasn't 

 done in a corner, for the whole country rung with the story, 



