The horse was hardly taken from out of Colonel Osborne's fly in Mrs.Crocket's yard when Bozzle stepped into the village by a path which he had already discovered, and soon busied himself among the tombs in the churchyard.

Now, one corner of the churchyard was immediately opposite to the iron gate leading into the Clock House.

"Drat 'un," said the wooden-legged postman, still sitting on his donkey, to Mrs.Crocket's ostler, "if there be'ant the chap as was here yesterday when I was a starting, and I zeed 'un in Lezbro' street thick very morning." "He be'ant arter no good, that 'un," said the ostler.

After that a close watch was kept upon the watcher.
[Illustration: The wooden-legged postman of Nuncombe Putney.] In the meantime, Colonel Osborne had ordered his breakfast at the Stag and Antlers, and had asked questions as to the position of the Clock House.

He was altogether ignorant of Mr.Bozzle, although Mr.
Bozzle had been on his track now for two days and two nights.