ii4 By Stream and Sea. 



was thorough, yet the short duration of the fog had rendered 

 it almost impossible that he could have escaped. Still, as 

 the hours of the brief winter's day went on, the invariable 

 news brought by droppers-in to the Kingsford Arms was 

 that number Ninety-six could not be traced in any form or 

 fashion. 



The mystery was increased by the circumstances under 

 which the man had succeeded in eluding the lynx-eyed 

 chase. The builders had been favoured by hilly and broken 

 country, affording an abundance of hiding places ; the 

 wielder of the shovel in the Reclamation enclosure could 

 only have got away over clear, open ground, with no cover 

 that would have concealed a dog. But got away he had, 

 and that of a surety. 



The three unsuccessful malcontents we may henceforth 

 dismiss from our story. They recovered more or less slowly, 

 and the Southwark burglar, it must perforce be said, to the 

 regret of all the prison officials, was the first to appear once 

 more in the ranks of the able-bodied convicts. Our concern 

 is rather with number Ninety-six, the absentee. 



At the Kingsford Arms, after dark, on the day of the 

 occurences above narrated, the snug bar-parlour was par- 

 ticularly well patronized. The shooting of three men in 

 one day was not so commonplace an event that it could be 

 passed over without special celebration. If the truth must 

 be known, it threw dreary Kingsford entirely out of gear. 

 The sportsman had not looked at his gun after the novel 

 sport of which he had been an indirect witness; the commer- 

 cial travellers had unexpectedly found it essential to make 

 several calls on the following morning; an odd farmer or 

 two from the outlying districts, and the straggling trades- 

 men of the village — all these assembled with one accord, as 



