better, I suppose?" said he, dolefully, sitting down very slowly by
reason of the tightness of his garments.

"Yes, the doctor says she's better; a little, a very little," said
Jemima.

"And _she_, of course she's quite knocked up?" said he, with a groan.

"No. Miss Crisp's taking a nap, that's all; and mother's keeping watch
next door."

Booms sat very uncomfortably, not knowing what fresh topic to discourse
on. But an inspiration seized him presently.

"Oh, I see you're crying," he said. "You're in trouble, too."

"So I am," said Jemima.

"Something I've done, I suppose?" said Booms.

"No, it isn't. It's about--about the Crudens."

"Oh, of course. What about them?"

"Well, isn't it bad enough they have this dreadful trouble?" said
Jemima; "but it isn't half the trouble they really are in."

"You know I can't understand what you mean when you talk like that,"
said Booms.

"Will you promise, if I tell you, to keep it a secret?"

"Oh, of course. I hate secrets, but go on."

"Oh, Mr Booms, Mr Reginald is in prison at Liverpool, on a charge--a
false charge, I'm certain--of fraud. Isn't it dreadful? And Mr Horace
ought to know of it. Could you break it to him?"

"How can I keep it a secret and break it to him?" said Mr Booms, in a
pained tone. "Oh yes, I'll try, if you like."

"Oh, thank you. Do it very gently, and be sure not to let my mother, or
his, or anybody else hear of it, won't you?"

"I'll try. Of course every one will put all the blame on me if it does
spread."

"No, I won't. Do it first thing to-morrow, won't you, Mr Booms?"

"Oh yes"; and then, as if determined to be in time for the interview, he
added, "I'd better go now."

And he departed very like a man walking to the gallows.

Shuckleford returned at midnight, and found the supper waiting for him,
but, to his relief, neither of the ladies.

He wrote the following short note before he partook of his evening
meal:--

"Dear D.,--Come round first thing in the morning. The police have
dished us for once, but we'll be quits with them if we put our heads
together. Be sure and come. Yours, S. S."

After having posted this eloquent epistle with his own hand at the
pillar-box he returned to his supper, and then went, somewhat dejected,
to bed.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

REGINALD FINDS HIMSELF "DISMISSED WITH A CAUTION."

There is a famous saying of a famous modern poet which runs--

"Sudden the worst turns the best