? 'Ow's young Bill to go to school on Monday now?" The
others found their boots, all urgently wanted, and all as they were
when Pascoe got them. A commination began of light-minded cripples who
took in young and innocent boots, promising them all things, and then
treacherously abandoned them, to do God knew what; and so I left.

This became serious; for old Pascoe, with his _Heart's Desire_, had
vanished, like his Toltecs. A week went by. The barge-builder, for
whom this had now ceased to be a joke, was vastly troubled by the
complete disappearance of his neighbour, and shook his head over it.
Then a few lines in an evening paper, from a port on the Devon coast,
looked promising, though what they wished to convey was not quite
clear, for it was a humorous paragraph. But the evidence was strong
enough for me, and on behalf of the barge-builder and a few others I
went at once to that west-coast harbour.

It was late at night when I arrived, and bewildering with rain, total
darkness, and an upheaval of cobbles in by-ways that wandered to no
known purpose. But a guide presently brought me to a providential
window, and quarters in the _Turk's Head_. In my room I could hear a
continuous murmuring, no doubt from the saloon bar below, and
occasional rounds of hearty merriment. That would be the place for
news, and I went down to get it. An oil-lamp veiled in tobacco smoke
was hanging from a beam of a sooty ceiling. A congregation of
longshoremen, visible in the blue mist and smoky light chiefly because
of their pink masks, was packed on benches round the walls. They
laughed aloud again as I went in. They were regarding with indulgent
interest and a little shy respect an elegant figure overlooking them,
and posed negligently against the bar, on the other side of which
rested the large bust of a laughing barmaid. She was as amused as the
men. The figure turned to me as I entered, and stopped its discourse
at once. It ran a hand over its white brow and curly hair with a
gesture of mock despair. "Why, here comes another to share our _Hearts
Desire_. We can't keep the beauty to ourselves."

It was young Hopkins, known to every reader of the _Morning Despatch_
for his volatility and omniscience. It was certainly not his business
to allow any place to keep its secrets to itself; indeed, his
reputation including even a capacity for humour, the world was
frequently delighted with more than the place itself knew even