looking in at their window,
acquainted them what had happened. If after Michael come from the
bake-'us with the meat, which kep' hot stood under its cover in the sun
all of five minutes and no one any the worse, while the old lady boiled
a potato--if Michael had not been preoccupied with a puppy in this
interim, he might easy have seen the culprit took away in the boat. He
regretted his loss; but his aunt, from whom we borrow a word now and
then, pointed out to him that we must not expect everything in this
world. Also the many blessings that had been vouchsafed to him by a
Creator who had his best interests at heart. Had he not vouchsafed him a
puppy?--on lease certainly; but he would find that puppy here next time
he visited Hammersmith, possibly firmer in his gait and nothing like so
round over the stomach. And there was the cherry-tart, and the crust had
rose beautiful.

Michael got home very late, and was professionally engaged all the week
with his father. He saw town, but nothing of his neighbours, returning
always towards midnight intensely ready for bed. By the time he chanced
across our friend Dave on the following Saturday, other scenes of London
Life had obscured his memory of that interview at The Pigeons and its
sequel. So, as it happened, Sapps Court heard nothing about either.

The death of Miss Hawkins's father, a month later, did not add a
contemptible manslaughter to Thornton Daverill's black list of crimes.
For the surgeon who attended him--while admitting to her privately that,
of course, it was the blow on the temple that brought about the cause of
death--denied that it was itself the cause; a nice distinction. But it
seemed needless to add to the score of a criminal with enough to his
credit to hang him twice over; especially when an Inquest could be
avoided by accommodation with Medical Jurisprudence. So the surgeon, at
the earnest request of the dead man's daughter, made out a certificate
of death from something that sounded plausible, and might just as well
have been cessation of life. It was nobody's business to criticize it,
and nobody did.

CHAPTER XV

THE BEER AT THE KING'S ARMS. HOW UNCLE MO READ THE _STAR_, LIKE A
CHALDEAN, AND BROKE HIS SPECTACLES. HOW THE _STAR_ TOLD OF A
CONVICT'S ESCAPE FROM A JUG. HOW AUNT M'RIAR OVERHEARD THE NAME
"DAVERILL," AND WAS QUITE UPSET-LIKE. HER DEGREES AND DATES OF
INFORMATION ABOUT THIS MAN AND HIS ANTECEDENTS. UNCLE M