d on
for what ought long ago to be dead and forgot!' But you're not trying to
lay hands on 'im, to put 'im in the pen, gov'ner?"

"I?" A singular glint shot from Steele's gaze. "No, no, my man, I'm not
seeking him for that. But he didn't say where he expected to go?"

"Not he."

"Nor what had brought him to London?"

"I expect it was 'omesickness, sir. 'E's been a bad lot, but 'e has a
heart, arter all. It was to see 'is mother 'e came back; the old woman
drew 'im 'ere. You see 'e had written 'er from foreign parts, but could
never 'ear; 'cause she had moved; used to keep a place where a woman was
found--"

"Dead?"

"Murdered!" said the man; John Steele was silent. "And she, 'is mother
'ad gone, 'aving saved a bit, out into a peaceable-like little 'amlet,
where there weren't no bobbies, only instead, bits of flower gardens and
bright bloomin' daffy-down-dillies. But, blime me, when Tom come and
found out where she 'ad changed to, if she 'adn't gone and shuffled off,
and all 'e 'ad for 'is pains was the sight of a mound in the
churchyard."

"Yes; she's buried," said John Steele thoughtfully, "and all she might
have told about the woman who was--murdered, is buried with her."

"But she did tell, sir; at the time," quickly, "of the trial."

"True." The visitor's tone changed. "If you can find Tom, give him this
note; you'll be well paid--"

"I ain't askin' for that; you got me off easy once and gave me a lift,
arter I was let out--"

"Well, well!" Steele made a brusk gesture. "We all need a helping hand
sometimes," he said turning away.

And that was as near as he had come to attainment of his desires.

Summer passed; sometimes, the better to think, to plan, to keep himself
girded by constant exercise, he repaired to the park, now neglected by
fashion and given over to that nebulous quantity of diverse qualities
called the people. Where fine gentlemen and beaux had idled,
middle-class nurse-maids now trundled their charges or paused to
converse with the stately guardians of the place. Almost deserted were
roads and row; landau, victoria and brougham, with their varied
coats-of-arms, no longer rolled pompously past; only the occasional
democratic cab, of nimble possibilities, speeding by with a fare lent
pretext of life to the scene. True, the nomad appeared in ever
increasing numbers, holding his right to the sward for a couch as an
inalienable privilege; John Steele encountered him on every hand. Once,
b