mense mirrors fastened to
the walls, advertising in frosted letters the popular brands of whisky.
And it stood alone in the darkening street, piercing the night with an
unwinking stare like an evil spirit, offering its warm, comfortable
bars to the passer-by, drawing men into its deadly embrace like a
courtesan, to reject them afterwards babbling, reeling, staggering, to
rouse the street with quarrels, or to snore in the gutters like swine.

Cassidy the policeman, with the slow, leaden step of a man who is going
nowhere, stopped for a moment in front of the hotel, and examined the
street with a suspicious eye. He saw nothing but some groups of young
men leaning against the veranda-posts at the opposite corner. They
smoked and spat, tranquilly discussing the horses and betting for the
next Cup meeting. Satisfied that the Road was quiet, he moved off,
dragging his feet as if they weighed a ton. At once a sinister
excitement passed through the groups.

"That was Cassidy, now we shan't be long."

"Wot price Jonah givin' us the slip?"

"'Ow'll Chook perform, if 'e ain't at Ada's?"

It was the Push, who had run their man to earth at the Angel, where he
was drinking in the bar, alone. Chook had posted them with the
instinct of a general, and then left in hurried search of Jonah. And
they watched the swinging doors of the hotel with cruel eyes, their
nerves already vibrating with the ancestral desire to kill, the wild
beast within them licking his lips at the thought of the coming feast.

Meanwhile, in Cardigan Street, Chook was arguing with Jonah. When told
that the Push was waiting for him, he had listened without interest;
the matter seemed foreign and remote. The velvety touch of his son's
frail body still thrilled his nerves; its sweet, delicate odour was
still in his nostrils. And he flatly refused to go. Chook was beside
himself with excitement; tears stood in his eyes.

"W'y, y'ain't goin' ter turn dawg on me, Jonah, are yer?"

"No bleedin' fear," said Jonah; "but I feel--I dunno 'ow I feel. The
blasted kid knocked me endways," he explained, in confusion.

As he looked down the street, he caught sight of Mrs Yabsley on the
other side. She walked slowly on account of the hill, gasping for air,
the weekly load of meat and groceries clutched in her powerful arms.
His eyes softened with tenderness. He felt a sudden kinship for this
huge, ungainly woman. He wanted to run and meet her, and claim the
s