by
it, and to order him out of the room. He was so very shamefaced while
he waited upon me at breakfast after this that I would have given a good
deal to shake hands with him, and to tell him that he was a very fine
fellow; but though I have known that impulse many times in my life, and
have sometimes felt it very strongly, I have never been able to obey it,
and I know that with many people I have passed through life as a hard
man--perhaps to my own advantage.

This was the beginning of a strange day--the day on which I had my first
suspicion of Brunow, and the day of poor old Ruffiano's betrayal, in
which I myself had an unconscious hand. It came about in this way: I had
seen at a gun-maker's shop in the Strand some weeks before a brace
of revolvers which had greatly taken my fancy. They were not the
old-fashioned, clumsy pepper-caster which I can very well remember as
having been used in actual warfare, and, indeed, esteemed as a deadly
weapon, but were new from America, with all the latest patents. I had
already examined them thoroughly, and had made up my mind to buy them
when the time came; but I was afraid of accumulating expenses, and it
was only now when the pinch of war was so near that I could find the
heart to part with the money. Hinge went with me, keeping his usual
place at a pace or half a pace behind my right shoulder, so that I could
talk to him whenever I had a mind, while he still kept the position
which he thought consistent with his master's dignity. Just as I came
upon Charing Cross I sighted Ruffiano; and he, seeing me at the same
moment, hurried across the street in his impetuous fashion, and barely
escaped being run over. The escape was so very close, that when he
reached me I congratulated him heartily, though if I had known what was
going to happen I might much more properly have commiserated him. But
the future is in no man's knowledge, and I have often been forced to
think that that is a blessed thing, and one to be heartily thankful for.
I have been happy at many moments, and so have those nearest and dearest
to me, when, if we could have known what an hour would bring forth, we
should have been profoundly mournful in anticipation of an event not yet
guessed of.

Poor old Ruffiano was full of enthusiasm and full of news. He was
better dressed than I had ever seen him before, and in consequence less
remarkable to look at.

"You shall congratulate me on more than that," said the good old