ession, were 'dead nuts on
him,' that his love-making, under whatever circumstances, always took
the form of genial banter _de haut en bas_. 'Don't be a bloomin' fool!'
was the phrase he deemed of most efficacy in softening the female
heart; and the result seemed to justify him, for after some half-hour's
wrangling, Clem abandoned her hostile attitude, and eyed him with a
savage kind of admiration.

'When are you goin' to buy me that locket, Bob, to put a bit of your
'air in?' she inquired pertinently.

'You just wait, can't you? There's a event coming off next week. I
won't say nothing, but you just wait.'

'I'm tired o' waitin'. See here; you ain't goin' to best me out of it?'

'Me best you? Don't be a bloomin' fool, Clem!'

He laughed heartily, and in a few minutes allowed himself to be
embraced and sent off to his chamber at the top of the house.

Clem summoned her servant from the passage. At the same moment there
entered another lodger, the only one whose arrival Clem still awaited.
His mode of ascending the stairs was singular; one would have imagined
that he bore some heavy weight, for he proceeded very slowly, with a
great clumping noise, surmounting one step at a time in the manner of a
child. It was Mr. Marple, the cab-driver, and his way of going up to
bed was very simply explained by the fact that a daily sixteen hours of
sitting on the box left his legs in a numb and practically useless
condition.

The house was now quiet. Clem locked the front-door and returned to the
kitchen, eager with anticipation of the jest she was going to carry
out. First of all she had to pick a quarrel with Jane; this was very
easily managed. She pretended to look about the room for a minute, then
asked fiercely:

'What's gone with that sixpence I left on the dresser?'

Jane looked up in terror. She was worn almost to the last point of
endurance by her day and night of labour and agitation. Her face was
bloodless, her eyelids were swollen with the need of sleep.

'Sixpence!' she faltered, 'I'm sure I haven't seen no sixpence, miss.'

'You haven't? Now, I've caught you at last. There's been nobody 'ere
but you. Little thief! We'll see about this in the mornin', an'
to-night _you shall sleep in the back-kitchen_!'

The child gasped for breath. The terror of sudden death could not have
exceeded that which rushed upon her heart when she was told that she
must pass her night in the room where lay the coffin.

'An' you