THOSE are hard things to throw in a man's teeth, uncle, and I shouldn't like to think that you meant them all."

       So spoke John Birch, the carpenter, as he stood up before the old bird-fancier — tall, sinewy, and strong, with his handsome face in a hot glow, and a flash of temper in his eyes — a specimen of a fine physical type, showing in marked contrast with a puny, pale young man about his own age, who sat in a corner, apparently reading, but in reality intently watching what was going on.

       "The harder the better, so that they hit the mark; but what I have said to-night I am ready to say again — ay, and mean them too."

       John Birch had never won much favour from the little, hard-featured old man who kept the bird-shop, and lived there with his pretty grand-daughter. But to-night he bad been insulted, and before a witness, between whom and himself there was an open feud, for it was as rivals that they met. Tom Bartlett, the soft-spoken school-master, had managed to insinuate himself in the favour of David Birch, and was also striving to supplant the young carpenter in the regard of his cousin Polly. The old man was the first to speak.

       "You need not glare at me like that, because I have found out what brings you sneaking round here."

       "I never sneak, uncle; that does not belong to the Birches."

       "No, it does not, my lad," the old man replied, in a slightly mollified tone; adding, "and I'm sorry you don't take after them. There's a spice of your mother —–"

       John Birch interrupted him, saying passionately, "Silence, Uncle David, you must not dare to say a word against her."

       "This to my face! Get out of the house, and never dare to cross my door-step again till you are sent for, which will be long enough, for I tell you once for all, that if I can hinder it, Polly Carson shall never marry an idle, beggarly fellow, always out of work, who can find nothing better to do than live on his sister's earnings."

       This was the stab that cut keenest of all. The young man's voice quivered as he said, "That is too bad, Uncle David, you don't know what feelings you stir in me;" and in his excitement he laid his hand on the old man's arm.

       At that moment the sly, watchful reader in the corner came forward, and, wilfully misunderstanding his intention, thrust himself between them, saying, "Come, no violence, it would be a pity, and I should be so sorry; you ought to remember Mr. Birch is your uncle, and an old man."

       In an instant he found himself put back with just the amount of force which a strong man would feel it needful to use in dealing with some puny obstruction which he held in contempt.

       "Mind your own business, Tom Bartlett, and don't meddle with mine; it doesn't need your sly tongue to teach me what I ought to remember. My uncle is in no danger of violence from me, and you know it." Then, turning to the old man, he added, "Uncle, I shall not want telling twice to go. I know you bear me ill-will, but I didn't think it was in you to upbraid a man for what is no fault of his; for I defy any one that knows me to say that I ever shirked work when I could get it to do. I am sorry for what has passed to-night, and perhaps you will be before you are many days older;" and snatching up his cap, he strode angrily through the shop into the street, without deigning another look at Tom Bartlett, who had slunk back into his corner, and was once more taking mental note of everything that he saw and heard.

---

II.

TO the surprise of the neighbours, David Birch had not taken down his shutters, though it was nearly eleven o'clock; such neglect of business had never occurred before within their remembrance. But a greater marvel still was the circumstance of the old man himself being dressed in his best black suit, which he only wore on important occasions. It was clear that he was going to keep holiday that day, and that something unusual had happened. They would have been convinced of this, if they had penetrated to the little back parlour, and heard the old man talking in his unwonted flow of spirits.

       "Put on thy best gown, Polly, and wear it in honour of the good fortune that is coming to us; thou shalt be dressed in silks, my bonny one."

       "I would rather you gave some of the money to poor Nellie Birch, grandfather."

       A shade crossed his face. "Yes, give it her to support her idle brother — not a shilling! It is enough that the will gives it to him after my death, more the pity; if I could keep it from him I would."

       "Oh, grandfather!"

       "I tell thee I would; but don't talk about him, child. I do not want to be angry just when I'm going to carry my good news to old Jacob Moss."

       "Am I to open the shop, grandfather?"

       "Do just as it suits thyself, child; we shall be rich enough not to care about the shop."

       While talking he consulted his large silver watch, which, for antiquity and size, might have been the patriarch of the entire race of watches.

       "I shall be back before nine, Polly; and perhaps Tom Bartlett may drop in and spend an hour with you."

       "I hope not, for I don't want to see him."

       "Ah! that's the perverse way of girls; but never mind, I dare say thou wilt look much higher than Tom now;" and he chuckled as he kissed her round, dimpled cheek, leaving her to take care of the feathered songsters and herself, the brightest thing that the place could show.

---

III.

MISSING, since the 23rd inst., an Old Man, named David Birch, dressed in black; height, about 5 feet 3 inches; grey hair; thin. He left home with the intention of visiting a friend at Fulham, and has not since been heard of. A reward of Twenty Pounds will be paid to any one giving information that may lead to his discovery.

       So ran the advertisement which was going the round of the leading papers, and being repeated in large printed placards on the walls of police-stations. In the immediate neighbourhood of the bird-shop there was much excitement and consternation at the old man's mysterious disappearance, mingled with lively sympathy for the distress of his granddaughter, whose pale face and swollen eyelids told how she had watched and wept. None were more demonstrative than Tom Bartlett, who kept hovering about her in spite of her visible shrinking from him, persistently pressing his services as though he alone had the right to act for her. Meantime, the day appointed by the lawyers for entering into arrangements with their client, respecting the fortune of which he had unexpectedly come into possession by the death of a brother abroad, had come and gone. The perplexed legal firm, acting in the interest of their client, instituted a rigorous search, but without success. The friend, Jacob Moss, a feeble old man, had been duly communicated with, and keenly cross-examined. David Birch had paid his visit on the day named, arriving, as far as the old man could recollect, about half-past two, and starting on his return journey about dusk. Here the clue was lost. Thus the days went by without throwing any light on the old man's fate, and poor Polly, worn with grief and anxiety, often cried herself to sleep.

---

IV.

"OH! Nellie — Nellie! you don't know what has happened!"

       It was with these words that John Birch had suddenly presented himself to his sister, a tall, dark-eyed girl, who might have been taken as a softened likeness of himself. She was busily at work when he came in, but on the first glance at his agitated face she dropped her needle and rose hurriedly.

       "Oh, John! what is the matter?"

       "Uncle David has been missing from home since the 23rd of last month, and no one can tell what has become of him."

       "Missing from home, John! why, it was only last week that we heard he had a fortune left him by his brother."

       "Yes, that's true enough, Nellie; and I hear that it comes to me after his death. The lawyers are seeking him everywhere. But think of poor Polly being in all this trouble, and us never to know it. It just seems as if that odd job of work in the country came on purpose to take me out of her way; and you're so moped up here that you never hear anything," he added fretfully.

       "John, I'll put on my things and go to her at once, if you think I can do any good."

       "Yes, Nell, I think you may. I know I always like to have you by me when I'm in trouble. I would go myself, but I'm forbidden the house. You remember what I told you of my quarrel with the old man. I wish to heaven those ill words had not passed between us."

       At that moment there was a sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs, followed by a smart rap at the door. Nellie went to open it, but started back as the sight of two policemen on the threshold.

       "Does John Birch live here?"

       "Yes, I am John Birch," the young man called out; "what do you want with me?”

       "Come this way and I'll tell you."

       “No, tell me here."

       The officer glanced compassionately at Nellie's white face as be answered, "Well, if you don't mind the young woman hearing, you're our prisoner."

       "Your prisoner! Impossible! On what charge?"

       "I dare say you know well enough. There's been a body found by the river, and it's thought there's been some foul play."

       "Whose body?”

       "David Birch's, the bird-fancier, that's been missing lately."

       "My uncle!" gasped John.

       "Exactly. You're our man. You've had a quarrel with him, and you're arrested on suspicion. We got the clue from Thomas Bartlett."

       "Bartlett!" The young carpenter repeated the name with a groan, and staggered against the wall, adding, "May God forgive him this wickedness!"

       At the same moment his sister threw herself on his neck with a cry that thrilled those who heard it.

---

V.

YES, it was true: a body bad been found; and there was evidence that identified it as that of the old man who was missing. The story went that it had been first seen by some workmen on their way home one wet evening. It had floated up with the tide, and been toyed with as a ghastly plaything, then beaten against one or the low-lying river banks, and flung out, a piteous sight for men to shudder at, as it lay with the defiling river-slime clotted among its tangled grey hair, and its dead, bruised face turned upward to the sky. From examination of the body, it was thought that there had been a struggle. The motive had clearly not been robbery, for a purse containing a sovereign and some silver was found in one of the pockets, together with a very remarkable antique silver watch, on which were engraved the initials "D. B.," which were readily translated into David Birch. When the watch and purse, with the old-fashioned coat found on the body, were shown to the bereaved granddaughter, and tearfully recognised by the trembling girl as belonging to her grandfather, the evidence of identity was complete. How had the old man come by his death? There was no cause to suspect him of suicidal intentions; and it was proved that he was sober when he parted from Jacob Moss. Then had followed the query, was David Birch at enmity with any one? At this point in the judicial investigation, Tom Bartlett put in a deposition to the effect that he had witnessed a quarrel between the old man and his nephew a day before the deceased had taken his fatal journey. He detailed what he remembered of the scene between them; how he (Tom Bartlett) had been apprehensive of violence on the part of the young man, who had told his uncle "that before he was many days older he would be sorry for what had passed that night." This ended in the arrest of the young carpenter. The news was carried to Polly Carson, but the sorely-tried girl rose against this crushing blow. "I cannot believe it. John Birch would not harm my grandfather; and I wouldn't take Tom Bartlett's word against a dog."

*       *       *       *      *

       "I am doing my best, Nellie, you may be sure of that; if there's ever so small a loophole for escape, trust to me that poor Jack shall have the benefit of it."

       The speaker was Nellie's plighted lover, Denton, the detective, a thoughtful-looking man, some years her senior, who had already given evidence of more than average ability in his calling.

       "My brother is not guilty, George; I could stake my life on it."

       "So could I, Nellie; but leave it to me. The examination is adjourned, and I may do much in the meantime."

       His words gave Nellie Birch comfort for the present, and she trusted in them.

---

VI.

THE court was crowded, for much interest bad gathered round the case of the old man, whose mysterious death had followed so suddenly upon his accession of wealth. The prisoner was pale and haggard from mental suffering and want of sleep; but, holding his head erect, and gazing before him with eyes that never lowered or shrank, and looking very unlike a man charged with murder. But the evidence had gone against him, and he was committed to take his trial for the wilful murder of bis uncle, David Birch. The decision was received by the prisoner with a shuddering gasp for breath, and a wild look of agony in his eyes, as a scream from a woman came from the crowd — it was a voice that be knew, for it was poor Nellie who had dropped down insensible. He was about to be removed when there was a sudden stir in court, and a man whom many there recognised as George Denton, the detective, forced his way through the crowd. Another moment, and he was standing before the magistrate, every ear drinking in his words.

       "The prisoner, John Birch, is not guilty, and I am prepared to prove it."

       "On what evidence?"

       "That it is a case of mistaken identity; the man whom he is accused of murdering being still alive. He lies helpless on a sick-bed, or he would have been here to set this wrong right."

       The deposition which was made before the startled bench may be briefly summed up as it was afterwards related in the presence of a reunited family circle, when the old bird-fancier got well enough to add his portion of the story. He explained that, after leaving his friend Moss, he had been met and attacked by a man in an unfrequented lane. They had a struggle, during which he received a blow on the head that must have made him insensible, for he remembered nothing more until he found himself in bed in a strange room; how long he had lain there he could not tell. He had been taken home by a humane market-gardener, who found him lying senseless in the road, without hat or coat; his injury proving to be a serious fracture of the skull, and the death-like stupor continuing, he was left on the hands or the good Samaritan, who, living some distance from London, had no chance of gaining any information about him.

       At this point George Denton took up the narrative. His first step had been to obtain sight of the body; he had found a peculiar mark on the right side or the neck, which led to the suspicion that, instead of being the body of David Birch, it was that of a notorious burglar with whom he had been several times brought in contact in the course or his profession. This was further proved when he found on inquiry that Light-fingered Joe — as he was called — was missing from his accustomed haunts, and one of his associates remembered having seen him in the neighbourhood of Fulham on the night named. Upon making inquiries in that locality, George learned that a market-gardener had been asking whether any one belonging to the neighbourhood was missing, as a man unknown was lying ill at his cottage.

       Thus, step by step, the detective had unravelled the mysterious affair. It was thought that the drowned man had ended his night's work by getting drunk; and, losing his way in the dark, had fallen into the river. This was the history of the mistake through which the young carpenter had so unjustly suffered. But the old bird-fancier seemed anxious to make up matters by a full reconciliation with his nephew, satisfying his granddaughter by his unexpected liberality towards the brother and sister, not forgetting a reward to George Denton for his faithful service, Polly made no secret of her feelings towards John, and it was easy to see how it would end with the young people. And this Christmas is as happy a one to them as, I trust, it will be to us all.

The End.