ell enough that every presumption is against me. Still, I tell
you the plain fact; and what reason have I for hiding the truth? If I
had been living with the girl, I should have said so, as an extra
reason for asking your help in the matter."

"What help can I give?" asked Woodstock, again cooling down, though his
eyes had in them a most unwonted light. He spoke as if simply asking
for information.

"I thought you might suggest something as to modes of defence, and the
like. The expenses I would somehow or other meet myself. It appears
that she will plead not guilty."

"And what's your belief?"

"I can't make up my mind."

"In that case, it seems to me, you ought to give her the benefit of the
doubt; especially as you seem to have made up your mind pretty clearly
about this Mrs. What's-her-name."

Waymark was silent, looking at Mr. Woodstock, and reflecting.

"What are your intentions with regard to the girl?" Abraham asked, with
a change in his voice, the usual friendliness coming back. He looked at
the young man in a curious way; one would almost have said, with
apprehensive expectation.

"I have no intentions."

"You would have had, but for this affair?"

"No; you are mistaken. I know the position is difficult to realise."

"Have you intentions, then, in any other quarter?"

"Well, perhaps yes."

"I've never heard anything of this."

"I could scarcely talk of a matter so uncertain."

There was silence. A sort of agitation came upon the old man ever and
again, in talking. He now grew absorbed in thought, and remained thus
for several minutes, Waymark looking at him the while. When at length
Abraham raised his eyes, and they met Waymark's, he turned them away at
once, and rose from the chair.

"I'll look into the business," he said, taking out a bunch of keys, and
putting one into the lock of a drawer in his desk. "Yes, I'll go and
make inquiries." He half pulled out the drawer and rustled among some
papers.

"Look here," he said, on the point of taking something out; but, even
in speaking, he altered his mind. "No; it don't matter. I'll go and
make inquiries. You can go now, if you like;--I mean to say, I suppose
you've told me all that's necessary.--Yes, you'd better go, and look in
again tomorrow morning."

Waymark went straight to Fulham. Reaching the block of tenements which
had been Ida's home, he sought out the porter. When the door opened at
his knock, the first face that greeted him was