eeze of
the arm, and began, of set purpose, to lag in his steps. Mr. Stimcoe
strode on, still audibly denouncing and exhorting.

"It was all my fault!" Master Bates pulled up and studied my mauled
face by the light of a street-lamp. "The beggar heard me shouting
his own name, silly fool that I was!"

I begged him not to be distressed on my account.

"What's the use of half a fight?" he groaned again. "My word,
though, won't Stimcoe catch it from the missus! She sent him out to
get change for your aunt's notes--'fees payable in advance.' I know
the game--to pay off the bailey; and he's been soaking in a
public-house ever since. Hallo!"

We turned together at the sound of footsteps approaching after us up
the street. They broke into a run, then appeared to falter; and,
peering into the dark interval between us and the next lamp, I
discerned Captain Coffin. He had come to a halt, and stood there
mysteriously beckoning.

"You--I want you!" he called huskily. "Not the other boy! You!"

I obeyed, having a reputation to keep up in the eyes of Doggy Bates;
but my courage was oozing as I walked towards the old man, and I came
to a sudden stop about five yards from him.

"Closer!" he beckoned. "Good boy, don't be afraid. What's your
name, good boy?"

"Harry Brooks, sir."

"Call me 'sir,' do you? Well, and you're right. I could ride in my
coach-and-six if I chose; and some day you may see it. How would you
like to ride in your coach-and-six, Harry Brooks?"

"I should like it finely, sir," said I, humouring him.

"Yes, yes, I'll wager you would. Well, now--come closer. Mum's the
word, eh? I like you, Harry Brooks; and the boys in this town "--he
broke off and cursed horribly--"they're not fit to carry slops to a
bear, not one of 'em. But you're different. And, see here: any time
you're in trouble, just pay a call on me. Understand? Mind you, I
make no promises." Here, to my exceeding fright, he reached out a
hand, and, clutching me by the arm, drew me close, so that his breath
poured hot on my ear, and I sickened at its reek of brandy.
"It's _money_, boy--_money_, I tell you!"

He dropped my arm, and, falling back a pace, looked nervously about
him.

"Between you and me and the gatepost, eh?" he asked.

His hand went down and tapped his pocket slily, and with that he
turned and shuffled away down the street. I stared after him into
the foggy darkness, listening to the tap of his stick up