etimes sat up late to practice his violin-playing;
and in my confusion of terror I heeded neither that the house was
silent nor that the window over his doorway showed a blank and unlit
face to the night. I knocked and knocked again, pausing to call his
name urgently, at first in hoarse whispers, by-and-by desperately,
lifting my voice as loudly as I dared.

At length a voice answered; but it came from the end of the passage
next, the street, and it was not Mr. Goodfellow's.

"D--n my giblets!" it said, in a kind of muffled scream.
"Drunk again! Oh, you nasty image!"

It was the barber's accursed parrot. I could hear it tearing with
its beak at the bars of its cage, as if struggling to pull off the
cloth which covered it.

A window creaked on its hinges, some way up the court.

"Hallo! Who's there?" demanded a gruff voice.

I took to my heels, and made a dash up the passage for the street.
The cage, as I passed under it, swayed violently with the parrot's
struggles for free speech.

"Drunk again!" it yelled. "Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me--here's a
pretty time o' night to disturb a lady!"

No longer had I any thought of braving the night and the perils of
the road, but pressed my elbows tight against my ribs and raced
straight for Stimcoe's.

CHAPTER X.

NEWS.

By great good fortune, Mr. Stimcoe had been drinking the health of
the returned prisoners until his own was temporarily affected.
In fact, as I reached Delamere Terrace, panting and excogitating the
likeliest excuse to offer Mrs. Stimcoe, the door of No. 7 opened, and
the lady herself emerged upon the night, with a shawl swathed
carelessly over her masculine neck and shoulders.

I drew up and ducked aside to avoid recognition, but she halted under
the lamp and called to me, in no very severe voice--

"Harry!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"You are late, and I have been needing you. Mr. Stimcoe is suffering
from an attack."

"Indeed, ma'am?" said I. "Shall I run for Dr. Spargo?"

She stood for a moment considering. "No," she decided; "I had better
fetch Dr. Spargo myself. Being more familiar with the symptoms, I
can describe them to him."

More familiar with the symptoms, poor woman, she undoubtedly was,
though I was familiar enough; and so, for the matter of that, was the
doctor, whose ledger must have registered at least a dozen similar
"attacks." But I understood at once her true reason for not
entrusting me with the errand. It would re