Now, ye see, my friend, says mr. Sheriff, in a quaint tone, theres three fi fas on that critter. Hold a minute. He must needs take a better glance he runs his fingers over the page again, mutters to himself, and then breaks out into a halfmusical, halfundefinable humming. Its a snarledup affair, the whole ont. Tll take a plaguy cunnin lawyer to take the shine out. The sheriff pushes the piece of coin nearer the inkstand, into the centre of the table. I feel all over like accommodatin ye, he deigns to say but then tll be so pestky crooked gettin the thing