that region. The place was quiet
and deserted save for a few Orientals--Lascars and Chinamen--who leaned
against the walls of their dwellings in silent contemplation of the
stars.

At the side door of a small and disreputable public house he paused and
knocked thrice with the handle of his cane and presently the door was
opened by a girl. She was a Jewess and lovely to look at, with the
fresh, shameless beauty peculiar to very young girls of that faith.
Recognising Harrison Smith she smiled a welcome and said:

"You're in luck--he's sober! Upstairs, in the front room."

She smiled again, revealing a perfect row of little white teeth which
mocked the string of cheap pearls at her throat. As he climbed the
stairs Harrison Smith speculated on the odd contrast this girl
presented to her surroundings. The silk of her stockings, the bangles
and gewgaws, the ultra patent leather of her shoes, bore so little
relation to the squalor of the narrow passage with its damp stained
walls, carpetless floor and hissing gas jet. Probably nowhere in the
world do greater incongruities exist than in the East End of London.

Mr. Alfred Bolt, minus coat, collar, tie and shoes, was seated in an
arm chair, his feet reposing upon the mantel-piece. At his elbow was a
glass of whiskey and water with a slice of lemon floating on the
surface. His waistcoat was undone and the white of his shirt
emphasised the enormous girth of his corporation. His legs were short,
his hands fat, his face round and margined with a half circle of hair
beneath the chin. At the first glance you would have taken him for the
model from which Will Owen must have illustrated the stories of W. W.
Jacobs. One would have expected him to remind the passer-by that it
was "a nice day for a sail" or alternatively to demand "Any more for
the Skylark?" But a closer inspection would have shaken the foundation
of so simple a belief for Mr. Alfred Bolt's eyes were not of the honest
kind worn by men who go down to the sea in ships. They were close set,
narrow lidded, cunning, piggy little eyes that caused unrest to look
upon.

At the sight of Harrison Smith he removed his feet from the mantelpiece
and extended an open armed welcome.

"Welcome and thrice welcome, my dear brother," he intoned in an
admirable imitation of the accepted ecclesiastical method. "I rejoice
indeed to observe that you are now in Holy Orders." Then with a drop
into the vernacular. "Blind me,