d to light it, watched in dumb amaze by the gaping
Brimberly.

"Brimberly," said he, "I shall probably return to-morrow."

"Yes, sir," said he faintly.

"Or the day after."

"Yes, sir!"

"Or the day after."

"Yes, sir!"

"Or the day after that; anyhow, I shall probably return. Should any one
call--business or otherwise--tell 'em to call again; say I'm out of
town--you understand?"

"Out of town--certingly, sir."

"Referring to--to the matter we talked of to-night, Brimberly--"

"Meaning the hobject, sir?"

"Precisely! Don't trouble yourself about it."

"No, sir?"

"No, Brimberly--I'm going to try and find one for myself."

"Ho--very good, sir!"

"And now," said the new Mr. Ravenslee, laying one white, ringless hand
on Spike's shoulder and pointing toward the open door with the other,
"lead on--young Destiny!"

CHAPTER IV

TELLING HOW HE CAME TO HELL'S KITCHEN AT PEEP O' DAY

It was past three o'clock and dawn was at hand as, by devious ways,
Spike piloted his companion through that section of New York City which
is known to the initiated as "Hell's Kitchen." By dismal streets they
went, past silent, squalid houses and tall tenements looming grim and
ghostly in the faint light; crossing broad avenues very silent and
deserted at this hour, on and on until, dark and vague and mysterious,
the great river flowed before them only to be lost again as they plunged
into a gloomy court where tall buildings rose on every hand, huge and
very silent, teeming with life--but life just now wrapped in that
profound quietude of sleep which is so much akin to death. Into one of
these tall tenement buildings, its ugliness rendered more ugly by the
network of iron fire-escape ladders that writhed up the face of it,
Spike led the way, first into a dark hallway and thence up many stairs
that echoed to their light-treading feet--on and up, past dimly lit
landings where were doors each of which shut in its own little world, a
world distinct and separate wherein youth and age, good and evil, joy
and misery, lived and moved and had their being; behind these dingy
panels were smiling hope and black despair, blooming health and pallid
sickness, and all those sins and virtues that go to make up the sum
total of humanity.

Something of all this was in Geoffrey Ravenslee's mind as he climbed the
dingy, interminable stair behind Spike, who presently halted to get his
wind and whisper:

"It ain't much further now, Ge