‘Won’t they be glad to see us at George’s?’

‘Of course they will.’

‘I’m sure I shall enjoy it so much.  Shall we get there to-night?’

‘Yes, love, if—­’

Rap-rap-rap, at the door.

A hasty separation took place between man and wife—­to opposite ends of the sofa; and then—­

‘Come in.’

‘Av ye plaze, sur, it’s an M.P. is waiting to see yez.’

‘To see me!  A policeman?’

‘Yis, sur.’

‘There must be some mistake.’

‘No, sur, it’s yourself; and he’s waiting in the hall, beyant.’

‘Well, I’ll go to—­No, tell him to come here.’

‘Sorry to disturb you, sir,’ said the M.P., with a huge brass star on his breast, appearing with great alacrity at the waiter’s elbow.  ‘B’lieve this is your black valise?’

‘Yes, that is ours, certainly.  It has Julia’s—­the lady’s things in it.’

’Suspicious sarcumstances about that ’ere valise, sir.  Telegraph come this morning that a burglar started on the 8.45 Philadelphia train, with a lot of stolen spoons, in a black valise.—­Spoons marked T.B.—­Watched at the Ferry.—­Saw the black valise.—­Followed it up here.—­Took a peek inside.  Sure enough, there was the spoons.  Marked T.B., too.  Said it was yours.  Shall have to take you in charge.’

‘Take me in charge!’ echoed the dismayed bridegroom.  ’But I assure you, my dear sir, there is some strange mistake.  It’s all a mistake.’

’S’pose you’ll be able to account for the spoons being in your valise, then?’

’Why, I—­I—­it isn’t mine.  It must be somebody else’s.  Somebody’s put them there.  It is some villanous conspiracy.’

’Hope you’ll be able to tell a straighter story before the magistrate, young man; ’cause if you don’t, you stand a smart chance of being sent up for six months.’

’Oh, Charles! this is horrid.  Do send him away.  Oh dear!  I wish I was home,’ sobbed the little bride.

‘I tell you, sir,’ said the bridegroom, bristling up with indignation, ’this is all a vile plot.  What would I be doing with your paltry spoons?  I was married this morning, in Fifth Avenue, and I am on my wedding tour.  I have high connections in New York.  You’ll repent it, sir, if you dare to arrest me.’

‘Oh, come, now,’ said the incredulous official, ’I’ve hearn stories like that before.  This ain’t the first time swindlers has traveled in couples.  Do you s’pose I don’t know nothin’?  ’Tan’t no use; you’ve just got to come along to the station-house.  Might as well go peaceably, ‘cause you’ll have to.’

’Charles, this is perfectly dreadful!  Our wedding night in the station-house!  Do send for somebody.  Send for the landlord to explain it.’

The landlord was sent for, and came; the porters were sent for, and came; the waiters, and chambermaids, and bar-room loungers came, without being sent for, and filled the room and the adjoining hall,—­some to laugh, some to say they wouldn’t have believed it, but nearly all to exult that the unhappy pair had been ‘found out.’  No explanation could be given; and the upshot was, that, in spite of tears, threats, entreaties, rage, and expostulations, the unfortunate newly-married pair were taken in charge by the relentless policeman, and marched down stairs, en route for the police office.