ould betray every
secret in his possession. What hope was there of escaping capture, even
if a hiding-place could be found for a day or two? If he had his hand
on Jack Bartley's gizzard.

Afraid to appear afraid, in dread lest his muddy clothing should
attract observation, he kept, as often as possible, the middle of the
road, and with relief saw at length the narrow archway, with its
descending steps, which was one entrance to Shooter's Gardens. As
usual, two or three loafers were hanging about here, exchanging
blasphemies and filthy vocables, but, even if they recognised him,
there was not much fear of their giving assistance to the police. With
head bent he slouched past them, unchallenged. At the bottom of the
steps, where he was in all but utter darkness, his foot slipped on
garbage of some kind, and with a groan he fell on his aide.

'Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall,' cried a
high-pitched voice from close by.

Bob knew that the speaker was the man notorious in this locality as Mad
Jack. Raising himself with difficulty, he looked round and saw a shape
crouching in the corner.

'What is the principal thing?' continued the crazy voice. 'Wisdom is
the principal thing.'

And upon that followed a long speech which to Bob sounded as gibberish,
but which was in truth tolerably good French, a language Mad Jack was
fond of using, though he never made known how he had acquired it.

Bob stumbled on, and quickly came to the house where he hoped to find a
refuge. The door was, of course, open; he went in and groped his way up
the staircase. A knock at the door of the room which he believed to be
still tenanted by Mrs. Candy and her son brought no reply. He turned
the handle, but found that the door was locked.

It was not late, only about ten o'clock. Stephen Candy could not, of
course, be back yet from his work, and the woman was probably drinking
somewhere. But he must make sure that they still lived here. Going down
to the floor below, he knocked at the room occupied by the Hope family,
and Mrs. Hope, opening the door a few inches, asked his business.

'Does Mrs. Candy still live upstairs?' he inquired in a feigned voice,
and standing back in the darkness.

'For all I know.'

And the door closed sharply. He had no choice but to wait and see if
either of his acquaintances returned. For a few minutes he sat on the
staircase, but as at any moment some one might stumble over him, he
went dow