this time."

The deputy knew that this was false, for his employer invariably came at
a different hour each day, in order to take "the house" by surprise; but
he said, "Very well, sir," as usual.

"And mind," continued Gorman, "that you put the lights out. You're
uncommon careful about that, I hope?"

It is worthy of remark, in reference to Gorman's anxiety about putting
out lights, that he had been burned out of several sets of premises in
the course of a few years. He was quite a martyr, as it were, to fire.
Unaccountably worried, pursued, and damaged by it--no, not damaged, by
the way; because Gorman was a prudent man, and always insured to the
full amount. His enemies sometimes said _above_ it; but neither they
nor we have any means of proving or disproving that.

The deputy protested that he always exercised the utmost precaution in
putting everything out every night--from the last beery lingerer, to the
gas--and that he felt quite put out himself at being asked the question,
as it implied a doubt of his care and attention to business. Hereupon
Gorman said "Good-night," and the deputy returned to the counter, where
besotted men and drunken women awaited his attendance.

Three-quarters of an hour sufficed to convey Gorman from the east to the
west end of London. Here he sought the well-known precincts of
Poorthing Lane, and entered the shop of Mr David Boone.

That worthy received him with a look of glad surprise; but with a
feeling of the deepest misery.

"Anyone inside?" asked Gorman.

"No," said Boone, "'cept the boy. I'll call him to mind the shop, and
then we can be alone."

As Gorman did not vouchsafe a reply, but walked straight into the little
room behind the shop, Boone called the boy, and bade him mind the shop,
while he held private consultation with his friend.

The shop-boy enjoyed the name of Robert Roddy. He was a soft-faced,
washed-out youth, with a disposition to wink both eyes in a meek manner.
Rough-spoken people called him an idiot, but Roddy was not quite such
an idiot as they took him for. He obeyed his master's mandate by
sitting down on a tall stool near the window, and occupied himself in
attempting to carve a human face on the head of a walking-stick.

"Glad to see you, Mr Gorman," said Boone, seating his tall body on a
low stool at the side of his friend, who, with his hat on, had thrown
himself into an armchair, and spread out both legs before the fire.
"Very glad to