he would take "half a dozen natives himself." The
proprietor bustled out; from an opposite corner of the room, the only
other occupant regarded with casual curiosity the two ill-assorted
figures. Tall, florid, Amazonian, this third person represented a fair
example of the London grisette, the _petite dame_ who is not very
petite, of its thoroughfares. Setting down a pewter pot fit for a
guardsman, she rose and sauntered toward the door; stopping there, with
one hand on her hip, she looked back.

"Ever see 'im?" she observed, nodding her bonnet at the portrait.
"Noticed you appeared hinterested, as if you 'ad!"

"Perhaps!" Steele laughed, not pleasantly. "In my mind's eye, as the
poet says."

"Wot the--!" she retorted elegantly. "'Ere's a swell toff to chawf a
lidy! 'Owever," reflectively, "I'ave 'eard 'e could 'it 'ard!"

"But that," said the gentleman, indicating the tankard, "could hit
harder."

"My hyes; wot's the name of yer missionary friend, ragbags?" to Joe.

"The gentleman's a lawyer, and when I tell you his name is--"

John Steele reached over and stopped the speaker; the woman laughed.

"Perhaps it ayn't syfe to give it!"

Her voice floated back now from the threshold; predominated for a moment
later in one of the corners of the bar leading to the street: "Oi soi,
you cawn't go in for a 'arf of bitters without a bloomin' graveyard mist
comin' up be'ind yer back!" Then the door slammed; the modern prototype
of the "roaring girl" vanished, and another voice--hoarse, that of a
man--was heard:

"The blarsted fog is coming down fast."

For some time the two men in the little back room sat silent; then one
of them leaned over: "She might have asked you that question, eh, Joe?"
The speaker's eyes had turned again to the picture.

The smaller man drew back; a shiver seemed to run over him. "They're a
long while about the steak," he murmured.

"For your testimony helped to send him over the water, I believe?" went
on the other.

"How do you--? I ain't on the stand now, Mr. Steele!" A spark of
defiance momentarily came into Dandy Joe's eyes.

"No; no!" John Steele leaned back, half closed his eyes; again pain,
fatigue seemed creeping over him. Outside sounded the clicking and
clinking of glasses, a staccato of guffaws, tones _vivace_. "The harm's
been done so far as you are concerned; you, as a factor, have
disappeared from the case."

"Glad to hear you say so, Mr. Steele. I mean," the other's voice