dded in reply, impatiently, and waved his hand.

The head clerk came back again, and laying his hand on Arthur's
shoulder, said, quietly:--

"I overheard you, I think, saying to Mr. Delancey you were not quite
well. You are unacclimated, remember, and must take care of yourself. Go
up stairs, and see if lying down awhile will not restore you."

Although Arthur felt certain now, that Wilkins knew all, he felt
inexpressibly grateful for his apparent ignorance of it, and his
kindness towards him, and showed as much in his manner.

"You hesitate--would you rather not go?"

"To tell the truth, Wilkins, I dislike to pass Mr. Delancey on my way
to bed. He will see, too, that my place is vacant, and perhaps discharge
me."

"No! You have his permission to go; your place will be taken care of by
the next clerk."

"You are very kind."

"No--not a bit of it."

With a smile upon his pale lips, Arthur stepped out of the front-door,
and turned into the narrow alley, which lay between the store and the
adjoining building, and which was arched overhead, damp under foot, and
hung with dirt and cobwebs. He reached a small door at the further end,
which led to the right into a narrow paved court, where was a hydrant,
which the clerks used for washing and drink.

He stopped here for a moment, to bathe his burning brow and quench his
parching thirst. As he bent down to place his lips to the faucet, a dark
figure sprang out from beneath the staircase behind, and darted through
the alley door, and out of sight.

Startled and surprised, Arthur ran down the alley swiftly, in pursuit,
and gaining the street, looked anxiously up and down, in a vain hope of
seeing some one who would satisfy his curiosity as to who or what it
was; for it had passed him so fleetly and lightly, that he could almost
believe it had been a shadow. He could see nothing, however; but
catching a glimpse of Mr. Clinton, leisurely sauntering down the other
side of the street, smoking a cigar, he hurried back, lest he should be
seen by him, and locked the alley door behind him, saying, as he did
so--"It was a careless trick in whoever left that open; I'll see to it
myself in future;" and then walked back to inspect the hiding-place of
the shadow, or whatever it was.

It was the niche formed by the steep flight of stairs; and, as there was
a number of old barrels there, and other rubbish, it afforded a fine
place for concealment, especially on a dark night. As it