Loe raamatut: «London's Heart: A Novel», lehekülg 33

"Yes, here it is; I suppose my girl has gone out for a walk. With Alfred perhaps."

"I can scarcely think that," the old man said, "the night is so cheerless."

"It is cold and dreary, out of doors," assented Martha.

"I came round to see if Alfred was here. Lily is uneasy because he has not come home, and she wants him to hear the news about her and Felix."

Martha, groping about in the dark for matches, seemed to find something strange in this, for she said, in an uneasy tone,

"Alfred not come home, and Lizzie not here!"

"But perhaps she is asleep, as you said," suggested Old Wheels.

"I'll see," said Martha, feeling her way to Lizzie's room. "You won't mind stopping here in the dark a bit."

As Martha felt her way along the passage and up the stairs, she called softly, "Lizzie! Lizzie!" But no voice answered her. She went into Lizzie's bedroom, and felt the bed. Lizzie was not there. She began to be alarmed. She glided quickly down the stairs again, and going to the parlour, found the matches, and lit the lamp. Then she called to the old man.

"I cannot understand it," she said, as if communing with herself. "Can Lizzie have been frightened because of what I said to her this afternoon? O Lizzie! Lizzie! O my darling child!"

She sat on a chair, and rocked herself to and fro in her distress.

"Because of what you said to her this afternoon?" questioned Old Wheels, sharing Martha's distress. "We are all closely connected by affectionate ties, Mrs. Day. May I ask what you said to her that causes you to be alarmed now?"

"No, no!" cried Martha, covering her face with her hands. "You are his grandfather, and I dare not tell you. But a mother's eyes can see! a mother's eyes can see!"

A sudden paleness stole into the old man's face, and his lips trembled.

"Is it something connected with Alfred? Nay, answer me; I am an old man, and I love Lizzie."

"It would have been better for her," sobbed the unhappy woman, "if she had never seen him. He has brought shame upon her, and I only am to blame! I should have watched over her; I should not have left her alone! O, Lizzie, my darling! come back to me!"

"If I understand you aright," said the old man, with an aching heart, "and I am afraid that I do, a new grief is brought upon us by the unhappy boy-a grief which I never dreamed of, never suspected. I thought our troubles were coming to an end, and that this day, until now so bright and so full of hope, was the beginning of a happier life for all of us. Alas for the errors of youth! God knows I have striven to do my best, and my duty!"

He was overwhelmed with sorrow, but the thought of Lily waiting at home for him aroused him to action.

"I must get home to my darling," he said, gazing sadly at the bowed figure of the unhappy mother; "she is alone in the house. Will you come with me?"

He took her unresisting hand, and she accompanied him to the street-door, but she paused there, and said, with a despairing look around,

"No, I must go and seek Lizzie-I cannot come."

"Do you know where she is likely to be?" he asked pityingly.

"No," she replied helplessly; "I don't know which way to turn. I'll wait here; perhaps she'll return soon. It will be best for me to wait."

He did not urge her farther, but saying he would see her again before the night was over, he hurried away, leaving her alone with her grief. His own heart was pierced with keenest sorrow, and he scarcely dared trust himself to think.

CHAPTER XLIV
A CRISIS

When Old Wheels entered the house, he expected Lily to run down-stairs to meet him, and he was surprised that he did not hear her voice welcoming him. Indeed, knowing her nature, he was quite prepared to find her waiting and watching for him at the street-door, or in the passage, and he was somewhat disappointed, when he put the key in the lock and listened, to hear no sound. Notwithstanding that a deep feeling of sadness was upon him, created by Martha Day's words and Lizzie's strange absence, the happiness that lay in the assurance that Lizzie's future was safe was more than sufficient to counterbalance all depression. When Felix had the right to protect his darling from the snares by which she had been surrounded-snares which her own loving nature had strengthened-trouble would weigh lightly upon him. But he could not shake off the uneasiness caused by the scene through which he had just passed. It was so strange and inexplicable: Lizzie's disappearance-for which her mother, who had parted from her but a few hours before, could not account-Alfred's absence and, added to these, the circumstance of Mr. Musgrave not being at home, he resolved that he would not tell Lily. "Let the child enjoy her happiness," he thought, "Alfred is sure to be home some time to-night." Ascending the stairs, he entered the sitting-room, and looked around for Lily. She was not there. "The puss!" he thought, with a smile. "She thinks Alfred is with me, and she is hiding herself. Lily; Lily!" No sound broke the silence that followed, as the old man stood, with head inclined, listening for the response. But the silence seemed to speak, and his heart turned cold. He looked around again with a vacant eye, and murmured, more than cried, in a helpless tone, "Lily! Lily!" with the same result. He wandered into her bedroom, and into every room in the house, but found no trace of his darling. Then a feeling came upon him, like the feeling of death, and almost deprived him of consciousness. But after a little while, by a strong effort of will, he recovered himself somewhat. "I must think! I must think!" he murmured; and wrenching his mind from the lethargy of despair which was stealing over it, he thought over all that had occurred. Presently a comforting thought came to him: the coincidence of Lizzie being absent from her house was a sufficient reason for his darling not being at home. "I have been away longer than Lily expected," he thought as he descended the stairs towards the street. "Lily grew anxious, and coming after me met Lizzie, and perhaps Alfred as well. I must have missed them on the way." In the hope and expectation of finding both the girls and his grandson there, he retraced his steps to Lizzie's house; but the place was dark and deserted, and he obtained no response to his knocks and cries. Even Martha Day was gone. In greater distress of mind, and with a terrible fear stealing upon him, which he found it impossible to shake off, he returned to his own house, and leaving the street-door open, wandered in an uncertain manner again through every room, searching in the most unlikely places. He looked about for a note, a line from Lily, to account for her absence, but not a trace of her writing was to be seen. Not knowing what to think or do, he stood, helpless, in the middle of the room, with clasped hands, as if waiting for some sign. For the space of little more than a minute he stood thus, when a church bell began to chime the hour of ten, and as the sound fell upon his ears he heard the street-door pushed softly open, and afterwards a light step upon the stairs. A sudden rush of tears came to his eyes, and the feeling of grateful relief he experienced almost overpowered him. "Thank God! She has come back, and I have been tormenting myself with foolish fears." But there entered the room, not Lily, but Felix. He approached the old man with outstretched hand, and looked eagerly around.

"Ten o'clock exactly," he said in a cheery tone; "I said I'd be here at ten. I came by the road, too. Where's Lily?"

The old man could not find voice to answer the question, and the agitation expressed in his troubled eyes was reflected instantly in the eyes of Felix, as in a mirror. For a moment a shadow reflected upon Felix's hitherto joyful face, like a mist upon a mirror, dimming its brightness.

"Where's Lily?" he asked again, hurriedly.

"You have not met her, then?" asked the old man faintly, in reply.

The shadow instantly passed away, and Felix's face became bright again.

"Seen her! No. Has she gone to meet me? The dear girl! She thought, perhaps, I was coming by train."

He was about to leave the room with the intention of running to the railway-station, when Old Wheels, who had received the suggestion with a feeling of intense gratitude, convinced that Felix had placed the right construction upon Lily's absence, called out to him to stop for a moment.

"I will go with you, Felix," he said.

Felix waited at the street-door for him, but before the old man left the house, he went into Lily's bedroom. He had not thought before of ascertaining whether Lily's hat and mantle were in their usual place. They were not there.

"Of course she has gone to the railway-station," he said to himself, smiling. "It's so long since I was young that I see everything through sixty-year-old spectacles. Ah, young hearts, young hearts!"

His own uneasiness had caused him for the time to lose sight of Lizzie's strange absence and of Martha Day's agitation; but as Felix and he walked to the railway-station, they recurred to him, and he narrated to Felix the history of the events that had occurred within the last hour.

"Lizzie gone, and Alfred not come home!" Felix exclaimed in amazement. "And Martha had no knowledge of Lizzie's movements?"

"None; she was terribly distressed at Lizzie's disappearance."

"Tell me. Have you seen Mr. Sheldrake to-day?"

"No."

"He would scarcely be in London," mused Felix. "He would be certain to go to Epsom and see the City and Suburban run." Then to the old man, "And Alfred went to the office this morning at his usual hour, you say?"

"Surely; and was brighter than I have seen him for many a day."

Notwithstanding these apparently satisfactory answers concerning Alfred, Felix found food for grave reflection in the information but the occurrence of other events prevented him from dwelling too deeply upon what he had been told. As they approached the railway-station they saw a number of persons hurrying thither, and some coming from it, with looks of haste and alarm. Felix was about to inquire the cause of this-for there was something unusual in the commotion, and it was evident that an incident out of the common had occurred-when the very man of whom he was about to inquire seized his arm and asked if he was a doctor.

"No," replied Felix; "why do you ask?"

"There's been an accident on the line," said the man as he hastened away.

"Jim Podmore is employed at this station," said Felix to Old Wheels, quickening his steps as he spoke. "Let's get there quickly."

He was thinking of Lily, and of her alarm, if she happened to be at the station at the time of the accident. And upon the shock of this news, and of its probably evil consequences to his humble friends, came a dim presage of ill which increased his excitement. Suddenly he paused, and said to the old man,

"One moment-only a moment-for reflection."

And in scarcely more than that space of time he became composed. He had resolutely shaken off all signs of agitation, and he was now cool and collected.

"It has occurred twice in my life," he said, rapidly and distinctly, "to be placed in a position of great peril, where a moment's haste, or a single false step, might have been attended with a fatal result. At the exact instant it was required, I have recovered the self-possession I had lost, and thereby have been enabled to escape the danger. This same feeling has come upon me within this last minute or two. Do not interrupt me, but hear me out, and act as I desire." He paused to recover his breath. "So many strange things have taken place to-night that I cannot overcome the impression that something of serious moment to persons whom we love has occurred, or may occur. If it be so-and I am convinced that my feeling springs from something more than mere nervousness-only calm reflection and steady action will help us. Lily may not be here; she may have arrived home in our absence, and will be alarmed that there is no one there to receive her Nay, she will not be able to get into the house. If she goes round to Lizzie's house, she will find no one there. Do you see what I mean? We are wasting our forces. Two men are doing the work of one. Hurry home as quickly as you can. If Lily is there, wait with her until I come; or she may return while you are waiting. If she is at the station, I will return with her as soon as possible. Under any circumstances, we are wrong in leaving the house alone. And mind," he concluded, with a detaining grasp on the old man's arm, "whether Lily is at home or not, or whether she come or not, do not stir from the house until I arrive."

The old man comprehended the wisdom of the arrangement, and saying hurriedly, "I will act exactly as you desire, Felix," walked back towards his house.

Felix then ran to the station, and with some little trouble obtained permission to the platform. There he found everything in confusion. A train had run off the line, and the rails were torn up.

"Is anybody hurt?" he asked, in a tone of authority.

"Only a child, fortunately; but she seems to be hurt rather badly. There were not many persons in the train."

"Whose fault was it?"

"The pointsman's, they say. He was half asleep when the accident occurred-the lazy scamp!"

"The pointsman!" exclaimed Felix. "That's Mr. Podmore!"

"I don't know his name, I'm sure," the man replied-it was a passenger who had answered Felix's questions-"but whatever it is, he ought to be made an example of, and I hope he will be."

A man employed at the station, who had heard the last question, said, as he passed, "Yes, it's Podmore's doing, this time."

Felix's first anxiety was for Lily, but he could not see her. He made his way into the waiting-room, and saw, in the centre of a little group, a child lying as if dead in the lap of a weeping woman. He darted forward.

"Good God!" he cried, as he leant over the sad couple. "It's little Polly!"

The weeping woman looked up into his face, and recognised him through her fast-flowing tears.

"She won't want any more dolls," she sobbed, with a gasp between each word. "My Polly! my darling! she's dead! she's dead! O Polly, my blessed, why was not I killed too!"

The piteous words cut Felix's heart and made it bleed. He laid his hand commiseratingly upon Mrs. Podmore's shoulder.

"Thank you, sir," she sobbed; "thank you. You never thought to see Polly like this, did you? O, why don't the doctor come! Will no one bring a doctor? Look after Jim, sir, for the love of God, and comfort him if you can."

Felix turned, and saw Jim Podmore, standing, with clenched hands and writhing form, apart from the group, and with so strong an agony in his face that Felix stepped swiftly to the side of the suffering man.

"Don't touch me!" cried Jim Podmore hoarsely, shrinking from the contact. "Don't lay a finger on me! I ain't safe to be touched or talked to. I've killed my child! I've killed what's dearer to me than life, and I want judgment to fall upon me!"

His looks were so wild that Felix feared for his reason; and knowing that it would do the man good to give vent to his grief, said in a gentle tone,

"You know me, Mr. Podmore? I'm your friend-Felix."

Jim Podmore softened at the sound of the friendly voice. He turned his face from Felix, and said:

"Ah, sir, she loved you, my Polly did! Your name was always on her tongue; and it was only this morning she told me of the new doll you promised her. She said you had another ship come home. She didn't know, when she cuddled me in bed afore I went to work, that I meant to kill her before the day was out. 'And when's your ship coming home, father?' she asked me; 'and when's your ship coming home, father?' Good Lord, help me! My ship's come home to-night, and my pet's laying dead afore my eyes! What right have I to stand here a living man, with that sight afore me?"

A man-a fellow-workman-was coming towards Jim with somewhat of a rough manner, when Felix gently put him aside.

"Let him be," Felix said; "let him have his talk out. It will do him good. He knows that I'm his friend, and he doesn't mind pouring out his grief to me. There's no one else hurt, I hope?"

"No, one else, sir," said the man respectfully.

"Thank God for that! Keep the people away from us; if you can."

Felix had drawn Jim out of the waiting-room; but although Jim could see neither his wife nor child, he spoke of Polly as if she were lying before him.

"Says my pet, a-laying there afore my eyes, as we was a-cuddling one another, 'Felix has got another ship come home, father, and there's a doll in it for Polly. There's a doll in it for Polly,' she says. She went all through with it, as she's done dozens o' times afore; and she says, with her eyes shut, 'Here's the ship a-sailing, a-sailing, and here's the waves a-curling, a-curling'-she knew it by heart, sir, every word of it-'and here's the captain a-bowing, a-bowing.' And then she shuts her eyes tighter, and says, for all the world as if she was in a dream, 'And here's the stars a-shining, a-shining.' Is my pet that's a-laying before my eyes in a dream now, and can she see the stars a-shining, a-shining?"

A voice only a few yards away said,

"Here's the doctor. Move away, and let the child have some air."

The words reached Felix's ears; but Jim Podmore was deaf to everything but his grief and despair.

"Whose fault was it? I heard some ask. Whose fault? Was it mine, when I was that dead-beat with long hours and overwork that I couldn't keep my eyelids open? And I didn't know my pet was in the train. I thought mother and her was home long ago. But I know'd it'd come to this-I've feared it for months and months. If it wasn't to-night, it'd come some other time. But I shouldn't ha' minded then, for I shouldn't ha' killed my pet. Ah, Snap, if I'd only ha' known! There was him a-pulling at my trousers with his teeth, and I never understood him a bit-not a bit."

Felix looked down, and saw the faithful dog standing at some little distance, watching its master with sympathetic eyes. It seemed to Felix as if it knew that something serious had occurred. Jim Podmore was somewhat calmer now, and seated himself on a bench, and rocked himself to and fro, with his head in his hands.

"Don't move for a minute," said Felix. "I want to go into the room to hear what the doctor says. You'll promise not to move till I come back?"

Jim, by a motion of his shoulders, gave the promise, and Felix went into the waiting-room. The people made way for him, and, to Felix's inexpressible relief, he heard the doctor's voice saying cheerily,

"There, there; it's not so bad after all! No bones broke. Shook a little-that's all. Killed! not at all, thank God!" And "Thank God! thank God!" came from a dozen lips, and a ray of hope shot into Mrs. Podmore's white face.

"The little thing will live to be an old woman, please God," the doctor continued. "Now don't be a foolish mother." Mrs. Podmore had taken his hand and kissed it. – "You must be a wise and steady mother; and if you don't at once stop crying like that, I declare you'll do your little girl a deal of harm." Mrs. Podmore instantly suppressed her sobs. – "Pretty little thing! See, she is recovering already!"

Pollypod opened her eyes, and raised her arms to her mother's neck. Mrs. Podmore was about to clasp the child to her breast in the overflow of her joy; but the doctor restrained her.

"No, not like that. Take her in your arms gently. Do you live far from here? No-that's right, that's right. I'll go home with you, and will see the little girl comfortably in bed. – You feel all right, don't you, little one?"

Pollypod answered "Yes, sir," in a weak voice; and seeing Felix, her eyes brightened, and she held out her hand to him. Mrs. Podmore whispered,

"Tell my husband, sir, and bring him to me."

Felix hastened to comply. Jim Podmore could not easily be made to understand that his precious Pollypod was comparatively unhurt; but when he did so, his grateful emotion impressed Felix deeply.

"I've lost my situation, sir; but I sha'n't mind that now. I'll try and get a living in a fairer way than this."

"And I'll help you," said Felix; "but tell me, before you join your wife, have you seen anything of Lily on the platform to-night?"

Jim Podmore considered for a moment, and passed his hands across his eyes to clear away the clouds.

"My memory's almost gone, sir, for everything but this. Yet I think I should ha' remembered seeing Lily if she'd been here. No, sir; I haven't seen her; but that ain't saying she ain't been here. The nearest thing to it is the up-train from Epsom."

"The up-train from Epsom!" echoed Felix, not seeing the connection.

"It stopped here; and one of our porters got a shilling from a passenger for taking a letter to Miss Lizzie-Master Alfred's sweetheart, sir."

Felix gave a start, but knew that it would be cruel to detain Jim any longer from his wife and child. The last thing he saw before he left the station on his way to Old Wheels was Jim Podmore lifting Polly tenderly in his arms.

Old Wheels was waiting at the street door for Felix's return in a state of intense anxiety; and when he saw Felix coming along by himself, his anxiety was redoubled. Felix knew immediately, by the expression in the old man's face, that Lily had not come home.

"No news of Lily, sir?" he asked, as he drew the old man into the house.

"None, Felix. And you?"

"She has not been seen at the railway station."

It was necessary that he should tell Old Wheels of the accident caused by Jim Podmore; and he did so in as few words as possible.

"I am glad that little Polly is not seriously hurt," said Old Wheels-"very, very glad. But I am in dreadful anxiety about Lily."

"I too, sir. She is our first and only care. You have no theory to account for her absence?"

"None, Felix."

"Her hat and cloak are gone," said Felix, following out a train of thought as he spoke. "That is a proof that she went from the house with deliberate intentions. We must not rest until we find her-that's understood."

"Yes, yes, Felix; go on."

"The first thing to ascertain is if anybody is at home at Mr. Musgrave's house. I will run round and see."

Felix returned in a very short time.

"No one is there; the house is quite deserted. There is some connection between Lily's absence and theirs. The only thing I cannot understand is that Lily did not leave a line of writing behind, in explanation. She knows what deep anxiety her absence would cause."

"Felix," said the old man, in a low tone, "can there have been some foul play?"

Felix did not reply for a few moments; he was mentally busy deciding on the best course of action.

"If there is, we will find it out, depend upon it, sir. I have a clue. I learnt at the station that a passenger from Epsom gave a porter a shilling to take a letter to Lizzie. That letter either came from Alfred or Mr. Musgrave, and upon the receipt of that letter Lizzie has disappeared."

"It could not have come from Alfred," interposed Old Wheels; "he was at his office."

"We must be sure of that. I have my suspicions that he did not go to work to-day. Now, sir, you must still be content to remain quiet, while I ride to London. I shall have no difficulty in obtaining the fastest horse from the stables near here."

"What is your object in going to London, Felix?" asked the old man, gaining confidence from Felix's firm tone.

"I am acquainted with a person employed in Alfred's office. I can obtain from him the information whether Alfred has been at his work to-day. Without that information, we might take a false step; with it (if it be as I suspect) I think I see part of my way. I shall be back sooner than you expect. I am a good rider, and I shall not spare my horse on such an errand."

Felix made good use of his time. It was barely half-past twelve o'clock as he ran upstairs to Old Wheels, flushed with the exercise. He cast a sharp glance around, and Old Wheels, shook his head, saying,

"No, Felix, she has not returned."

"I was right in my suspicions, sir. Alfred has not been at his office to-day. He asked for leave of absence on the plea that you required his assistance at home."

"Where can he have spent his time, then?"

"At Epsom. A great race called the City and Suburban was run to-day, and Alfred has been betting on that race, and has lost. Now, sir, can you bear a shock?"

Old Wheels waited in trembling suspense. "A greater one than has already fallen?" he murmured.

"As great, almost," replied Felix gravely; "but it is necessary that you should know. From what I have heard to-night, I suspect Alfred has been using money that does not belong to him."

Old Wheels covered his face with his hands, and sobbed quietly. Felix continued steadily,

"My acquaintance, who is employed in Messrs. Tickle an Flint's office, was desired this afternoon by one of his employers to tell Alfred to step into the private office immediately he arrived to-morrow morning, and my acquaintance told me that, from the tone in which the message was delivered, he believed, something serious had transpired. Can you see the connection between these things, and Lily's connection with them Alfred, having lost in the race money that did not belong to him, is afraid to show his face at the office, is afraid to come home.. A letter arrived for Lizzie from Epsom; that letter is written by him, and tells her probably of the danger he is in. Lizzie disappears without warning, without leaving word or message behind her. Why? She is afraid of compromising Alfred. Where has Lizzie gone to? The letter she received from Alfred guided her steps without doubt. Do you agree with me that we have now accounted for Alfred's and Lizzie's absence?"

"Yes, but how do you connect Lily with these movements? Remember, that when I left Lily in the house, at half-past nine o'clock, neither she nor I had any suspicion of these occurrences. We thought Lizzie was at her house; we expected Alfred's arrival home every moment. Before that time Lizzie must have received the letter from Alfred, and must have gone to join him. Where?"

"There is the difficult point, sir. If we could ascertain where Lizzie has gone, and how, it would be a most important point. The only livery-stable near is the one from which I hired the horse to go to London." And here Felix stamped his foot, and exclaimed excitedly, "Fool that I was, not to have made inquiries there! We must go there at once, you and I. You may be of use. There will be no sleep for either of us to-night."

Before they left the house, they went up-stairs to the Podmores, to see how Polly was, and to leave a message with Mrs. Podmore, in the unlikely contingency of Lily returning in their absence. Polly was asleep, and mother and father were watching by her bedside. Snap licked Felix's hand as he stooped to pat the dog's head.

"Snap knows what a friend you are to us," said Mrs. Podmore in a whisper; "but you seem in trouble. Has Lily gone to bed?"

She was soon made acquainted with their trouble, and promised obedience to Felix's instructions.

"I don't suppose either Jim or me will close our eyes this night," she said; "but one of us will be sure to be on the watch. If Lily comes back while you are away, we'll keep her here until you return."

Felix hastily wrote a few lines to Lily, and intrusting them to Mrs. Podmore, kissed Pollypod tenderly.

"You have much to be grateful for," he said to Mrs. Podmore.

"Ah, sir, we have indeed!" she answered. "God bless you, and send you success and happiness!"

Felix and Old Wheels shook hands with Jim Podmore, and were soon at the livery-stables. There was only one man there, and they had some difficulty in arousing him. He referred to the books, and said that no lady had engaged anything from the yard that night.

"Two saddle-horses have been taken out since seven o'clock," said the man, with his eye on the page on which the record was made; "a brougham and pair for a customer" (mentioning his name, which satisfied Felix that it could not be for Lizzie), "and a cab."

"Who hired the cab?"

"Can't say. One of our men, Thompson by name, has gone with it. Hired by a gentleman; ten pounds left as deposit."

"How long was it hired for?"

"Can't say, sir; all night, most likely. Thompson is generally selected for the long jobs. You know Thompson, sir?"

"No, I do not."

"He is a tallish man, with his nose on one side, and a hare-lip: wears an old white overcoat. Now I think of it, I saw him and the cab waiting at the door of the True Blue public-house."

"Ah!" exclaimed Felix briskly. "At what time?"

"About half-past nine, I should say. I happened to be passing just then, and now I think of it, Thompson and me had a drink."

"Thank you," said Felix, with sudden animation. "Here's something to get another drink with. Is the True Blue a late house?"

"Got a one-o'clock license, sir. Thank you, sir."

"It's ten minutes to one," said Felix, looking at his watch. "Come along, Mr. Wheels; we shall get there before the house closes."

And he ran out of the livery-yard, followed by Old Wheels. Lounging about the bar of the True Blue they found the usual class of customers, who were being urged by the landlord to leave, as the time was come to close the house. The potman was busy with shutters and bolts; behind the bar was the landlady. She knew Old Wheels, and she nodded to him. Felix was a stranger to her, but she cast a favourable eye upon him nevertheless.

"Can we have one minute's private conversation with you?" asked Felix. "And there is time, isn't there, for us to drink a glass or two of your best dry sherry?"

The landlady glanced at the clock, as a matter of form-it was five minutes to one-and said:

"Would you like to step into our little room, gentlemen; you'll find it more comfortable? – Now, turn out, my men, if you don't want to be put out!"

That it would certainly come to this with some of the customers of the True Blue was evident: one man was especially loth to go.

"Just another pint, missis," he urged, "just another pint, and then we'll toddle." In a tone of such entreaty that to one unacquainted with the usual proceedings of such topers, it might reasonably have been inferred that his very life depended upon that other pint, and that the most serious consequences to his health would ensue if it were refused. The landlady paid no attention to the entreaty, but devoted herself to Felix and Old Wheels, who had stepped into the parlour at her invitation. Seeing that she only set two glasses before them, Felix called for two more, and hoped that the landlady and her husband would join them. He completed the conquest by drinking prosperity to the True Blue, and then proceeded to business.