ooking wan and haggard, and very
unlike a thief or ruffian.

The crowd had melted away. The two policemen stood with faces fixed in
something between a grin and a scowl.

"What are you all up to?" said Leonard, in astonishment at the
suddenness of the whole affair.

"Just this, young man," replied one of the policemen, "that if you
want to walk about in this part of London you had better not wear such
an enticing pin in your scarf."

Leonard put up his hand, and found that his turquoise pin was pulled
half-way out of his scarf. He said angrily, "Then why don't you take
the thief in charge?" And he pointed at the sickly-looking man who
stood close by.

"Because he was too quick for us. He's on the other side of the river
long before this."

"Why, there he stands!" cried Leonard, pointing again at the shabby
figure.

"Begging your pardon, young sir, this is him that has saved your pin
from them two thieves. You owe him many thanks, and something more
substantial, in my humble opinion."

Then Leonard understood the affair, and how the poor delicate man had
prevented the smart colleagues from making off with the valuable pin
given him by his late mother, and therefore very greatly precious to
him. He turned to his defender with warm thanks.

The two policemen sauntered away.

"I am awfully obliged to you, I'm sure," said Leonard. "You don't look
well."

"No," replied the poor man; "I have had sickness and sorrow lately,
and a little thing upsets me. I shall be better in a few minutes. You
put your pin in your pocket, sir; and do not show any jewellery when
you come through these shady slums."

"I think I must have come wrong."

"What street do you want?"

Leonard named it.

"Well, you have not come wrong exactly; but you had better have stuck
to the main thoroughfares, and not have taken these short cuts, which
are all very well for some of us, but not for young gents with
'turkeys' breast-pins. If you are not ashamed of my company I can take
you straight to the street you've named."

After his late escape Leonard felt suspicious of every stranger in
London; but as he really had reason to feel obliged to this man, he
put aside that feeling and walked on for some time with his new
acquaintance.

CHAPTER XI.

A THOROUGH CHANGE.

"I am afraid," Leonard said presently, "that I am taking you out of
your way."

"Not at all, sir; I live in that same street. There's a good many of
us live ther