A certain doubt came up in my mind whether Sergeant Cuff's last random shot might not have hit the mark.

I began to question whether my share in the proceedings was quite as harmless a one as I had thought it.

It might be all in the way of the Sergeant's business to mystify an honest woman by wrapping her round in a network of lies but it was my duty to have remembered, as a good Protestant, that the father of lies is the Devil--and that mischief and the Devil are never far apart.

Beginning to smell mischief in the air, I tried to take Sergeant Cuff out.

He sat down again instantly, and asked for a little drop of comfort out of the Dutch bottle.