lm again. For a moment he hesitated, and then walked up New Bridge
Street.

A policeman passed him and gave him a suspicious glance, but, seeing a
well-dressed, gentlemanly-looking man, said nothing.

"Good-night, constable."

"Good-night, sir; out late."

"Yes, rather." He was tempted to tell the man what he had seen, but did
not yield to it. It was far better to say nothing. So they passed on, he
towards Ludgate Circus, the policeman towards Blackfriars Bridge.

When he reached his solitary room he sat down and began to think. What
he had done appeared to him in the light of a grim joke, and he wondered
what the result of it would be. There was something intensely
interesting in the thought of what would be said when the body was found
on the following morning. He was in a strange humour, and the events of
the night had fallen in with it. Ever since the day on which he had left
Taviton he had desired to hide himself from those who had hitherto known
him, and the feeling had grown as the days went by. Why should he who,
according to the world's standards, had disgraced himself at Taviton,
appear before the empty-headed gossiping crew he had known? He had
played his old acquaintances a trick now. What would they say when they
heard the news?

He thought of Olive Castlemaine. What would she say? Had she forgotten
him? he wondered. No, no, that could not be. The woman who had cared
enough about him to promise to be his wife could not forget him so
easily.

Oh, but this was a joke, a joke he really enjoyed. Let all those who
knew him be fooled! He laughed at the thought of it, and there was a
sort of bitter pleasure in his heart as he went to bed.

The following day the old woman who swept his room and did odd jobs for
him came in the ordinary way. She had not the slightest idea who he was.
If some one told her that he was Radford Leicester, it would have meant
nothing to her. She knew nothing, and cared just as little about the
doings of the world. If she met him in the street she would not have
recognised him; she was too blind.

"Want me any more to-day?" she asked as she was leaving.

"No--yes," said Leicester; "you might come about half-past six to-night.
I may want you, and will you bring me an evening newspaper?"

"All right. Which? there's so many on 'em."

"Oh, it does not matter. Bring half a dozen. You can get them off the
man who stands at the corner of the top of Chancery Lane."

"'L right," sh