ed
how he had learned to dread drawing attention to himself.

"Quiet! quiet! I'm not going to hurt you," said Sir Tancred in a
gentle voice, a little husky with a piercing emotion which had invaded
him; and something in its tones really did quiet the child, for he
struggled no more, though his breath came in a quick, faint, terrified
panting.

Sir Tancred took him through the house, and felt a quivering throb run
through him at the sight of the brutes who had fallen back into their
drunken slumbers. He brought him out to the cab, and said hoarsely to
Selina, "Is this the child?"

"That's him, sir! That's him!" said Selina, holding out her hands for
him; and the tears of joy trickled down her rugged cheeks.

Sir Tancred gave him to her, bade the cab-man drive to the Hotel Cecil,
and got into the cab.

Selina had untied the brown-paper parcel, and was putting a little coat
on the child. "I took the liberty of getting it to bring him away, in
case you should let me have charge of him," she said.

The child still panted, but most of the terror had faded from his eyes;
he had recognised his friend. Sir Tancred looked at him hungrily; his
soul, so long starved, was feasting on the sight of that atom of
humanity, so grimy, so shocking to the eye, but his own child.

"They call you Hildebrand Anne, do they?" he said with a broken, joyful
laugh. "Tinker's the name for you!"

CHAPTER THREE

TINKER ACCEPTS HIS NAME

The child sat very still on Selina's lap, shrinking back as far as
possible from Sir Tancred. Selina kept talking to him, and his father
spoke to him several times, but he uttered never a sound. Once when
Sir Tancred moved suddenly, he threw up his little thin arm to guard
his face; and Sir Tancred swore.

They agreed that he would be happier if they took no notice of him for
a while, and sat quiet. He seemed relieved, for he sank into an easier
position on Selina's lap, and presently they saw him stroke his coat
with a caressing gesture, as though its softness pleased him. After a
long while, he sat up, looked at the horse, said in a quaint, thin
whisper, "Gee-gee--mine like gee-gee"; and then looked swiftly round
with frightened eyes, fearful lest he had drawn attention to his
existence.

Suddenly he began to blink, then, lulled by the motion of the cab, he
fell asleep. They sat quiet, and had reached a more civilised part of
London, when Sir Tancred said, "Do you think I could hold h