himself up to-morrow? But the thought of punishment such as his crime
receives was unendurable. It haunted him in nightmare when sheer
exhaustion had at length weighed down his eyelids.

Long before daybreak he was conscious again, tormented with thirst and
his head aching woefully. Someone had risen in the room above, and was
tramping about in heavy boots. The noise seemed to disturb Mrs. Candy;
she cried out in her sleep. In a few minutes the early riser came forth
and began to descend the stairs; he was going to his work.

A little while, and in the court below a voice shouted, 'Bill Bill!'
Another worker being called, doubtless.

At seven o'clock Stephen roused himself. He took a piece of soap from a
shelf of the cupboard, threw a dirty rag over his arm, and went down to
wash at the tap in the yard. Only on returning did he address Bob.

'Feelin' any better?'

'I think so. But I'm very bad.'

'Are you goin' to stay here?'

'I don't know.'

'Got any money?'

'Yes. Ninepence. Could you get me something to drink?'

Stephen took twopence, went out, and speedily returned with a large mug
of coffee; from his pocket he brought forth a lump of cake, which had
cost a halfpenny. This, he thought, might tempt a sick appetite. His
own breakfast he would take at the coffee-shop.

'Mother'll get you anything else you want,' he said. 'She knows herself
generally first thing in the morning. Let her take back the mug; I had
to leave threepence on it.'

So Stephen also went forth to his labour--in this case, it may surely
be said, the curse of curses. . . .

At this hour Pennyloaf bestirred herself after a night of weeping. Last
evening the police had visited her room, and had searched it
thoroughly. The revelation amazed her; she would not believe the charge
that was made against her husband. She became angry with Mrs. Griffin
when that practical woman said she was not at all surprised. Utterly
gone was her resentment of Bob's latest cruelty. His failure to return
home seemed to prove that he had been arrested, and she could think of
nothing but the punishment that awaited him.

'It's penal servitude,' remarked Mrs. Griffin, frankly. 'Five, or
p'r'aps ten years. I've heard of 'em gettin' sent for life.'

Pennyloaf would not believe in the possibility of this befalling her
husband. It was too cruel. There would be some pity, some mercy. She
had a confused notion of witnesses being called to give a man a good
charac