week a man who kept an early coffee-stall in
one of the main streets told them that a week ago a ragged little urchin
had come to him with a pitiful tale about a gentleman who was starving,
and had begged for a can of coffee and a slice of bread to take to him,
offering in proof of his good faith his own coat as payment. It was a
bitterly cold morning, and the man trusted him. He had never seen the
gentleman, but the boy brought back the empty can in a few minutes. The
coffee man had kept the jacket, as it was about the size of a little
chap of his own. But he had noticed the boy before parting with it take
two ragged little books out of its pockets and transfer them to the
bosom of his shirt. That was all he remembered, and the gentleman might
take it for what it was worth.

It was worth something, for it pointed to the possibility of Reginald
not being alone in his wanderings. And putting one thing and another
together they somehow connected this little urchin with the boy they saw
crouching on the doorstep of Number 13, Shy Street the day of their
arrival, and with the office-boy whom Mr Sniff described as having been
Reginald's companion during his last days at the office.

They would neither of them believe Reginald was not still in Liverpool,
and cheered by the very feeble light of this discovery they resumed
their search with unabated vigour and even greater thoroughness.

Happily the news from home continued favourable, and, equally important,
the officials at the _Rocket_ made no demur to Horace's prolonged stay.
As for Harker, his hopefulness and pocket-money vied with one another in
sustaining the seekers and keeping alive within them the certainty of a
reward, sooner or later, for their patience.

Ten days had passed, and no fresh clue. Once or twice they had heard of
the pale young gentleman and the little boy, but always vaguely, as a
fleeting vision which had been seen about a fortnight ago.

On this day they called in while passing to see Mr Sniff, and were met
by that gentleman with a smile which told them he had some news of
consequence to impart.

"I heard to-day," said he, "that a patient--a young man--was removed
very ill from a low lodging-house near the river--to the smallpox
hospital yesterday. His name is supposed to be Cruden (a common name in
this country), but he was too ill to give any account of himself. It
may be worth your while following it up."

In less than half an hou