low me once more, and this time to some purpose. Last night they had
left a knife on me; to-night I would have a keepsake ready for them.

Hitherto I had gone unarmed since my landing, which, perhaps, was no
more than my duty as a civilized citizen. On Black Hill Flats, however,
I had formed another habit, of which I should never have broken myself
so easily, but for the fact that all the firearms I ever had were
reddening and rotting at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. I now went
out and bought me such a one as I had never possessed before.

The revolver was then in its infancy; but it did exist; and by dusk
I was owner of as fine a specimen as could be procured in the city of
London. It had but five chambers, but the barrel was ten inches long;
one had to cap it, and to put in the powder and the wadded bullet
separately; but the last-named would have killed an elephant. The oak
case that I bought with it cumbers my desk as I write, and, shut,
you would think that it had never contained anything more lethal than
fruit-knives. I open it, and there are the green-baize compartments, one
with a box of percussion caps, still apparently full, another that could
not contain many more wadded-bullets, and a third with a powder-horn
which can never have been much lighter. Within the lid is a label
bearing the makers' names; the gentlemen themselves are unknown to me,
even if they are still alive; nevertheless, after five-and-forty years,
let me dip my pen to Messrs. Deane, Adams and Deane!

That night I left this case in my room, locked, and the key in my
waistcoat pocket; in the right-hand side-pocket of my overcoat I carried
my Deane and Adams, loaded in every chamber; also my right hand, as
innocently as you could wish. And just that night I was not followed! I
walked across Regent's Park, and I dawdled on Primrose Hill, without
the least result. Down I turned into the Avenue Road, and presently was
strolling between green fields towards Finchley. The moon was up, but
nicely shaded by a thin coating of clouds which extended across the sky:
it was an ideal night for it. It was also my last night in town, and I
did want to give the beggars their last chance. But they did not even
attempt to avail themselves of it: never once did they follow me: my
ears were in too good training to make any mistake. And the reason only
dawned on me as I drove back disappointed: they had followed me already
to the gunsmith's!

Convinced of th