by more than twenty years, habited in a way which made it;
difficult to as certain his social standing, and looking about him with
eyes suggestive of anything but prudence or content. Now and then they
exchanged a glance: he of the high hat and caped ulster betrayed an
interest in the younger man, who, in his turn, took occasion to observe
the other from a distance, with show of dubious recognition.

The trill of an electric signal, followed by a clanging bell, brought
them both to a pause, and they stood only two or three yards apart.
Presently a light flashed through the thickening dusk; there was
roaring, grinding, creaking and a final yell of brake-tortured wheels.
Making at once for the nearest third-class carriage, the man in the
seedy overcoat sprang to a place, and threw himself carelessly back; a
moment, and he was followed by the second passenger, who seated himself
on the opposite side of the compartment. Once more they looked at each
other, but without change of countenance.

Tickets were collected, for there would be no stoppage before
Birmingham: then the door slammed, and the two men were alone together.

Two or three minutes after the train had started, the elder man leaned
forward, moved slightly, and spoke.

"Excuse me, I think your name must be Hilliard."

"What then?" was the brusque reply.

"You don't remember me?"

"Scoundrels are common enough," returned the other, crossing his legs,
"but I remember you for all that."

The insult was thrown out with a peculiarly reckless air; it astounded
the hearer, who sat for an instant with staring eyes and lips apart;
then the blood rushed to his cheeks.

"If I hadn't just about twice your muscle, my lad," he answered
angrily, "I'd make you repent that, and be more careful with your
tongue in future. Now, mind what you say! We've a quiet quarter of an
hour before us, and I might alter my mind."

The young man laughed contemptuously. He was tall, but slightly built,
and had delicate hands.

"So you've turned out a blackguard, have you?" pursued his companion,
whose name was Dengate. "I heard something about that."

"From whom?"

"You drink, I am told. I suppose that's your condition now."

"Well, no; not just now," answered Hilliard. He spoke the language of
an educated man, but with a trace of the Midland accent. Dengate's
speech had less refinement.

"What do you mean by your insulting talk, then? I spoke to you civilly."

"And I answered