've comed in where ye've got no right to be. When a man goes where
he shouldn't ought to, an' things looks as if they wasn't all square, in
them circumstances, blow high or blow low, I always goes straight
for'ard an' shoves him out. If he don't shove easy, why, put on more
steam--that's wot _I_ say."

"But sure ye don't forgit me, Bill!" pleaded Larry, in amazement.

"Well, p'r'aps I don't, an' p'r'aps I do. W'en I last enjoyed the
dishonour o' yer acquaintance, ye wos a blackguard. It ain't likely yer
improved, so be good enough to back yer top-sails, and clear out."

Bill Jones pointed, as he spoke, to the opening through which Larry had
entered, but, suddenly changing his mind, he said, "Hold on; there's a
back door, an' it'll be easier to kick you through that than through the
consart-room."

So saying, Bill seized Larry O'Neil by the collar, and led that
individual, in a state of helpless and wondering consternation, through
a back door, where, however, instead of kicking him out, he released
him, and suddenly changed his tone to an eager whisper.

"Oh! Larry, lad, I'm glad to see ye. Wherever did ye come from? I've
no time to speak. Uncle Ned's jist buried, and Jim Crow comes on in
three minutes. I had to pretend, ye know, 'cause it wouldn't do to let
Jim see I know'd ye--that wos him on the stool--I know wot brought ye
here--an' I've fund out who _she_ is. Where d'ye stop?"

Larry's surprise just permitted him to gasp out the words "City Hotel,"
when a roar of laughter and applause met their ears, followed by the
tinkle of a small bell. Bill sprang through the doorway, and slammed
the door in his old comrade's face.

It would be difficult to say, looking at that face at that particular
time, whether the owner thereof was mad or drunk--or both--so strangely
did it wrinkle and contort as it gradually dawned upon its owner that
Bill Jones, true to his present profession, was acting a part; that he
knew about the mystery of Mademoiselle Nelina; was now acquainted with
his, (Larry's), place of abode; and would infallibly find him out after
the concert was over. As these things crossed his mind, Larry smote his
thigh so often and so vigorously, that he ran the risk of being taken up
for unwarrantably discharging his revolver in the streets, and he
whistled once or twice so significantly, that at least five stray dogs
answered to the call. At last he hitched up the band of his trousers,
and, hasteni