know, Miss Whichello! You give help where
Mrs Pansey only gives advice. I know who is most thought of; that I do!'

'Mrs Pansey has her own methods of dispensing charity, Miss Mosk.'

'Tracts and interference,' muttered Bell, under her breath; 'meddlesome
old tabby that she is.'

'Mr Cargrim was at my house to-day, as I told you,' pursued Miss
Whichello, not having heard this remark, 'and he mentioned a man called
Jentham as a poor creature in need of help.'

'He's a poor creature, I daresay,' said Miss Mosk, tossing her head,
'for he owes father more money than he can pay, although he does say
that he'll settle his bill next week. But he's a bad lot.'

'A bad lot, Miss Mosk?'

'As bad as they make 'em, Miss Whichello. Don't you give him a penny,
for he'll only waste it on drink.'

'Does he drink to excess?'

'I should think so; he finishes a bottle of brandy every day.'

'Oh, Miss Mosk, how very dreadful!' cried Miss Whichello, quite in the
style of Daisy Norsham. 'Why is he staying in Beorminster?'

'I don't know, but it's for no good, you may be sure. If he isn't here
he's hob-nobbing with those gipsy wretches who have a camp on Southberry
Common. Mother Jael and he are always together.'

'Can you describe him?' asked Miss Whichello, with some hesitation.

'He is tall and thin, with a dark, wicked-looking face, and he has a
nasty scar on the right cheek, slanting across it to the mouth. But the
funny thing is, that with all his rags and drunkenness there is
something of the gentleman about him. I don't like him, yet I can't
dislike him. He's attractive in his own way from his very wickedness.
But I'm sure,' finished Bell, with a vigorous nod, 'that he's a
black-hearted Nero. He has done a deal of damage in his time both to men
and women; I'm as sure of that as I sit here, though I can give no
reason for saying so.'

Miss Whichello listened to this graphic description in silence. She was
very pale, and held her handkerchief to her mouth with one trembling
hand; the other beat nervously on her lap, and it was only by a strong
effort of will that she managed to conquer her emotion.

'I daresay you are right,' she observed, in a tremulous voice. 'Indeed,
I might have expected as much, for last night he frightened my niece and
her maid on the high road. I thought it would be best to give him money
and send him away, so that so evil a man should not remain here to be a
source of danger to the town.'

'Gi