enly as they went by, the flame blazed up again,
and she burst forth into a torrent of abuse, facing round upon her
companion.

"You low rascal! You mean, contemptible cur!" she went on, after an
incoherent storm of curses: "You think I'm to work and slave for you
always, I suppose, while you're after that Green Street girl and
drinking every penny you've got. But you're mistaken, Sam,--indeed,
I'll bear it no longer. Damn you, you dirty thief, I've done with you
and your master too, so you can go your own errands, and I only hope
they'll get you into trouble."

The woman tore at the bosom of her dress, and taking something out that
looked like paper, crumpled it up and flung it away. It fell at
Salisbury's feet. She ran out and disappeared in the darkness, while
the man lurched slowly into the street, grumbling indistinctly to
himself in a perplexed tone of voice. Salisbury looked out after him,
and saw him maundering along the pavement, halting now and then and
swaying indecisively, and then starting off at some fresh tangent. The
sky had cleared, and white fleecy clouds were fleeting across the moon,
high in the heaven. The light came and went by turns as the clouds
passed by, and, turning round as the clear white rays shone into the
passage, Salisbury saw the little ball of crumpled paper which the
woman had cast down. Oddly curious to know what it might contain, he
picked it up and put it in his pocket, and set out afresh on his
journey.

III

Salisbury was a man of habit. When he got home, drenched to the skin,
his clothes hanging lank about him, and a ghastly dew besmearing his
hat, his only thought was of his health, of which he took studious
care. So, after changing his clothes and encasing himself in a warm
dressing-gown he proceeded to prepare a sudorific in the shape of hot
gin and water, warming the latter over one of those spirit lamps which
mitigate the austerities of the modern hermit's life. By the time this
preparation had been imbibed, and Salisbury's disturbed feelings had
been soothed by a pipe of tobacco, he was able to get into bed in a
happy state of vacuity, without a thought of his adventure in the dark
archway, or of the weird fancies with which Dyson had seasoned his
dinner. It was the same at breakfast the next morning, for Salisbury
made a point of not thinking of anything until that meal was over; but
when the cup and saucer were cleared away, and the morning pipe was
lit, he remem