good wine and a cheery landlord. There is a river at Treis and a possibility of small trout if we take great trouble; but we don't; it is too hot to take trouble; there is no water in the stream, and the fish are asleep. The river now makes up its devious mind to go straight for Coblenz in long reaches, with groynes on either bank. It comes on to rain; we bump a rock and dance along a rapid. Then come commercial buildings with chimneys, reminding us that we live in the iron age. The stream widens, the rain pours down, the Roman bridge comes in sight. Coblenz finis chartæque viæque. May we go there again!

F. WARRE CORNISH.

WATLEY'S WITNESS.

I.

WATLEY was haled before a special sitting of the Dissby Bench. The matter was highway robbery with violence-no less. Overnight a well-known farmer named Tenbow had been waylaid driving home from Dissby Market-Dissby is a small country town in the South Midlands-and the local police laid hands on WatleyWatley was a grizzled tramp, and therefore a hardened reprobate. Farmer Tenbow (sometimes known as 'Old Georgy Tenbow') kept his bed over it, and Watley-on whom nothing was found, and who at first touch attempted a derisive innocence in a queer, shaky sort of way-Watley soon found something of a story to tell.

Watley had known Mr. Tenbow, of Saffron Hill Farm, forty years, he informed the Bench in the Town Hall. 'I was acquainted with the family as a youth,' he said, ' when this present Mr. Tenbow was "young Mr. George to everybody, and before my own unfortunate

'Never mind that. You saw Mr. Tenbow yesterday?'

'A gentleman I have always respected very highly,' resumed Watley, bowing apologies. Watley had a stiff policeman on each side and three magistrates seated before him, so Watley did most of the courtesies going. Watley, indeed, besides choosing his words and regarding his aspirates, usually, when he spoke, inclined himself with engaging smiles and pleased rubbings of his hands— a man of address, Watley. In person he was very tall and \ shrivelled; he had tangled, nondescript hair and a week's grey stubble on his chin; his dingy old coat shook upon him loosely, his frayed and patched trousers hung as though encasing long walking sticks, and his boots were well ventilated. One of my oldest and most esteemed he assured the Bench beamingly, 'not, of course, forgetting the difference in our present positions, and very sorry, indeed, I was to learn

'Now, now! You were the last person seen with Mr. Tenbow last night, and that was along the road between Dissby here and his own house. State what time-give your account.'

About eight o'clock,' said Watley, less effusively. Two

hours after dark, and a more nasty, lonely bit of road I've never driven.'

'Oh, you rode with him! And where were you going?" 'With Mr. Tenbow.'

'To his house with him?

Now, think,' as Watley hesitated. 'Well, I was, and I wasn't, gentlemen. That was accordingly, and if something happened, for Mr. Tenbow is a man of his word.' 'What do you mean? Speak out.'

'I-I'd warned Mr. Tenbow,' said Watley, like one plunging. That made me there. I had a suspicion that somebody meant robbing him.' And having gone so far, Watley was compelled to go further. 'A whisper the day before,' he explained. 'In a―er-a house of resort, and quite strangers to me, on my dying- No,

I couldn't see them; but there seemed to be two at least. It wasn't till I got to bed afterwards that it really struck me, for you often hear things. You see they didn't mention names, they referred to an-er-elderly gent'

'No, no. Give the exact words you say you heard.'

""An old cock with a rough tongue and a tub on him," saving your presence, gentlemen. "Drives an old pony in a fourwheel," they said, "home from Dissby every Thursday night all alone, with a skin full of whisky, and a gold watch and chain, and a pocket full of money to pay his men with on the Friday."

The Bench accepted the description. And you informed Mr. Tenbow?'

'Not-er-verbatim,' said Watley. Mr. George Tenbow is a very peculiar man-not a man to offend-and I had to be very careful.'

'He knew you?'

'So he remarked,' said Watley demurely.

'Well, as you rode with him, you can tell us all about it.'

'But I'd left him, gentlemen. As I informed the police this morning

"Then he wasn't afraid?'

'Who?' said Watley, starting. 'Old Georgy! Never in his life, your honours. I was. And he chipped me, your honours.' Chipped you?'

Chaffed me,' explained Watley; 'roasted me, gentlemen. Mr. Tenbow is always given that way, and he gets worse-especially in the way he chuckles while he's rubbing it into you.

Last

night he kidded me because we were not interfered with after what I had told him, rasped me something cruel all the way-he'd been to market and stayed as usual-and you should have heard him when I kicked and got out.'

'Whereabouts was that?'

'Just at the bottom where the culvert runs under the road— against the trees. He said it would be there, if anywhere, and he would pull up-to give 'em a chance, he said. And then he went on! And even when I jumped out at last he sat calling round at me-everything! And after all he was stopped up the hill, not far from his own gate.'

'Oh, you know that?'

'Everybody knows that, gentlemen.'

'But you must have been quite close. Was there nobody along the road?'

'Not a soul to be seen.'

'And you heard nothing-on your oath?'

Watley wriggled. 'I did hear what I took to be Mr. Tenbow swearing and grunting,' he said slowly, but I wasn't going back. Just then I almost hoped he was being robbed for his obstinacy, and for his rounding on those that would have saved him. And I thought that if anything was happening and I got back soon enough, I should only get my head in the way of something hard, and I really wasn't equal to it, for I never felt worse. And then it struck me I'd left my stick in the pony chaise, and if worst was worstfor I had my fancies, Mr. Tenbow being an old man-and I was handy, I might just drop in for being whipping-boy, for I'm always the unluckiest of men. So I rather made haste, gentlemen.'

'Rather,' the Bench agreed. The police evidence showed that Watley had put miles between.

And I was out of sorts-nervous,' resumed Watley, shaking his head. I think, perhaps, it was the-er-the eating; for I'd been very fortunate in the day, and I am hardly accustomed '— Watley stroked his 'Little Mary' and sighed. 'I've never been quite myself since, and after all his kindness is it likely————? ' 'Ingenious,' observed the Bench, after consultation. remanded pending inquiries.'

You are

'But,' protested Watley, 'there's Mr. Tenbow himself. He'll say-if you'll allow me, gentlemen, Mr. Tenbow will clear me.'

'Mr. Tenbow is still unconscious from his injuries last night, and it is doubtful whether he will recover. If not, and on present

evidence, you lie under a very serious charge, and we should strongly advise you to make up your mind to tell the whole truth.'

Watley seemed staggered. He stood with his mouth gaping and working. When he spoke again he lacked his suavity. 'Ridiculous!' he ejaculated shrilly. I should like to say-like to see The Bench ordered his removal, and Watley lost his manners and his head.

'Lemme see Mr. Tenbow!' he shrieked. 'I will-I must! This is a put-up job! It's you!' he raved, rounding on the burly inspector who had put possessive hands upon him. 'Lemme be taken! I say, lemme

Watley was taken outside. He had struggled, raving his innocence and his wishes to see Mr Tenbow, and the inspector promptly showed his superiors how a prisoner should be handcuffed. Watley-a moment making as though he would wring his hands-descended the Town Hall steps guarded, and shaking his head, and looking at his feet, and stumbling.

Without the official van was drawn up, its door open. Watley stopped, shrank, stared away down where the long country street dreamed in the October sunshine; Watley glanced to the left-over the old red-brick Market Square; Watley turned again and gazed down the street intently, obliviously. The burly inspector clapped him on the shoulder, and Watley started convulsively, glared an instant, put his head down, and then that inspector grunted mightily from a terrific shock below the belt. Watley flew back like a spring uncoiled and another guardian bounced away, as though from a rattling charge at football. Then Watley was off down the street, running.

II.

Watley always' saw' Mr. Tenbow when he travelled that route, and the day before Watley had duly waited on Dissby Market Place and near the Crown' until Mr. Tenbow approached there alone, and then Watley got in the way and touched his cap several times.

'Morning, Mr. Tenbow,' he said, bending low, 'good morning to you, sir. I hope you have your health, sir?'

Mr. George Tenbow frowned. He was a big-bodied old man with a strong, shaven upper lip and massive features supported by a bushy iron-grey beard; he walked solidly, and as though he