THE SMUGGLER. 141 



dentally, the goods were going in a different direction from his 

 house, he was seized, we think, upon insufficient grounds, while 

 endeavouring to dissuade the smugglers from resisting the 

 king's officers and troops; and though we may judge his op- 

 position imprudent, it was not wholly unjustifiable. The pri- 

 soner is therefore discharged." 



" The goods were going to the Bamleys,'' said the man, 

 Clinch, who now, emboldened by the presence of several other 

 officers, spoke loud and decidedly. " Here are two or three of 

 the dragoons who can swear that they followed a party of the 

 smugglers nearly to the house, and had the gates shut in their 

 face when they came up; and I cant't help saying, that 

 the search of the house by Mr. Badford was not conducted as 

 it ought to have been. The two officers were left without, 

 while he went in to speak with old Bamley, and there were a 

 dozen of men, or more in the kitchen." 



"Pooh! nonsense, fellow!" cried Mr. Badford, interrupting 

 him with a laugh ; "I did it for your own security/' 



"And then," continued Clinch, "when we had gone down 

 into the concealed cellar below, which was as clear a hide for 

 smuggled goods as ever was seen, he would not let me carry 

 out the search, though I found that two places at the sides 

 were hollow, and only covered with boards." 



"Why, you vagabond, you were afraid of going down at 

 alll" said Mr. Badford. "Where is Adams? He can bear 

 witness of it." 



"Clinch didn't seem to like it much, it must be confessed," 

 said Adams, without coming forward; "but then the place 

 was so full of men, it was enough to frighten one." 



"I wasn't frightened," rejoined Mr. Badford. 



"Because it was clear enough that you and the Bamleys 

 understood each other," answered Clinch, boldly. 



"Pooh, pooh, nonsense!" said Squire Jollivet. "You 

 must not talk such stuff here, Mr. Clinch. But, however that 

 may be, the prisoner is discharged; and now, as I think we 

 have no more business before us, we may all go home; for it's 

 nearly five o'clock, and I, for one, want my dinner." 



"Ay, it is nearly five o'clock," said young Badford, who 

 had been standing with his eyes cast down and his brow knit; 

 "and you do not know what you have all done, keeping me 

 here in this way." 



