" said Hilliard, whose excitement had passed and
left him cold. "And I should like to know who told you before that I
was in the habit of getting drunk?"

"Are you drunk now, or not?"

"Not in the way you mean. Do you happen to know a man called Narramore?"

"Never heard the name."

Hilliard felt ashamed of his ignoble suspicion. He became silent.

"There's no reason why you shouldn't be told," added Dengate; "it was a
friend of yours at Dudley that I came across when I was making
inquiries about you: Mullen his name was."

A clerk at the ironworks, with whom Hilliard had been on terms of
slight intimacy.

"Oh, that fellow," he uttered carelessly. "I'm glad to know it was no
one else. Why did you go inquiring about me?"

"I told you. If I'd heard a better account I should have done a good
deal more for you than pay that money. I gave you a chance, too. If
you'd shown any kind of decent behaviour when I spoke to you in the
train--but it's no good talking about that now. This is the second time
you've let me see what a natural blackguard you are. It's queer, too,
you didn't get that from your father. I could have put you in the way
of something good at Liverpool. Now, I'd see you damned first, Well,
have you run through the money?"

"Every penny of it gone in drink."

"And what are you doing?"

"Walking with a man I should be glad to be rid of."

"All right. Here's my card. When you get into the gutter, and nobody'll
give you a hand out, let me know."

With a nod, Dengate walked off. Hilliard saw him smooth his silk hat as
he went; then, without glancing at the card, he threw it away.

The next morning was cold and wet. He lay in bed till eleven o'clock,
when the charwoman came to put his rooms in order. At mid-day he left
home, had dinner at the nearest place he knew where a meal could be
obtained on Sunday, and afterwards walked the streets for an hour under
his umbrella. The exercise did him good; on returning he felt able to
sit down by the fire, and turn over the plates of his great book on
French Cathedrals. This, at all events, remained to him out of the
wreck, and was a joy that could be counted upon in days to come.

He hoped Narramore would keep his promise, and was not disappointed. On
the verge of dusk his friend knocked and entered.

"The blind woman was at the door below," he explained, "looking for
somebody."

"It isn't as absurd as it sounds. She does look for people--with her
ears. S