ckety ladder which
served the house for a staircase. "There's one there already. Never
mind him; you take the next."

Reginald turned almost sick as he entered the big, stifling, filthy loft
which was to serve him for a night's lodging. About a dozen beds were
ranged along the walls on either side, one of which, that in the far
corner of the room, was, as the woman had said, occupied. The
atmosphere of the place was awful already. What would it be when a
dozen or possibly two dozen persons slept there?

Reginald's first impulse was to retreat and rather spend another night
in the streets than in such a place. But his weary limbs and aching
bones forbade it. He must stay where he was now.

Already Love was curled up and asleep on the bed next to that where the
other lodger lay; and Reginald, stifling every feeling but his
weariness, flung himself by his side and soon forgot both place and
surroundings in a heavy sleep.

Heavy but fitful. He had scarcely lain an hour when he found himself
suddenly wide awake. Love still lay breathing heavily beside him. The
other lodger turned restlessly from side to side, muttering to himself,
and sometimes moaning like a person in pain. It must have been these
latter sounds which awoke Reginald. He lay for some minutes listening
and watching in the dim candle-light the restless tossing of the bed-
clothes.

Presently the sick man--for it was evident sickness was the cause of his
uneasiness--lifted himself on his elbow with a groan, and said,--

"For God's sake--help me!"

In a moment Reginald had sprung to his feet, and was beside the
sufferer.

"Are you ill," he said. "What is the matter?"

But the man, instead of replying, groaned and fell heavily back on the
bed. And as the dim light of the candle fell upon his upturned face,
Reginald, with a cry of horror, recognised the features of Mr Durfy,
already released by death from the agonies of smallpox.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

LOST AND FOUND.

Booms was not exactly the sort of man to be elated by the mission which
Miss Shuckleford had thrust upon him. He passed a restless night in
turning the matter over in his mind and wondering how he could break the
news gently to his friend.

For he was fond of Horace, and in his saturnine way felt deeply for him
in his trouble. And on this account he wished Jemima had chosen any
other confidant to discharge the unpleasant task.

He hung about outside Mrs Cruden'