ng-room, Horace suddenly said to
the Captain--

"I say, Hindford, do me a good turn to-night, will you?"

"Well, old chap, what is it, eh?"

"When you say 'good-night,' don't really go."

The Captain looked astonished.

"But----" he began.

"Wait outside a second for me. When the Mater's gone to bed I want you
to come into the Park with me."

"The Park? What for?"

"To find that beggar chap. I bet he's there. Lots of his sort sleep
there, you know. I want to give him something. And--somehow--I'd like
you to come with me. Besides, it doesn't do to go looking for anyone in
the Park alone at night."

"That's true," the Captain said. "All right, Errington; I'll come."

And, after bidding Mrs. Errington good-night, he lingered in Park Lane
till he was joined by Horace. They turned at once into the Park and
began to make their way in the direction of the Serpentine. It was a
soft night, full of the fine and minute rain that belongs especially to
spring weather. The clocks of the town had struck eleven, and most of
the legitimate sweethearts who make the Park their lover's walk had gone
home, leaving this realm of lawns and trees and waters to the
night-birds, the pickpockets, the soldiers, and the unhealthily curious
persons over whom it exercises such a continual and gloomy fascination.
Hindford and Horace could have seen many piteous sights had they cared
to as they walked down the long path by the Row. The boy peered at each
seat as they passed, and once or twice hesitated by some thin and tragic
figure, stretched in uneasy slumber or bowed in staring reverie face to
face with the rainy night. But from each in turn he drew back,
occasionally followed by a muttered oath or a sharp ejaculation.

"I bet he'll be somewhere by the Serpentine," the boy said to Hindford.

And they walked on till at length they reached the black sheet of water
closely muffled in the night.

"We met him somewhere just here," Horace said.

"I know," Hindford rejoined. "He got up from this seat. But he may be a
dozen miles off by now."

"No," Horace said, with a curious pertinacity; "I'm sure he's about here
still. He looked like a man with no home. Ugh! how dreary it is! Come
along, Hindford."

The good-natured Captain obeyed, and they went on by the cheerless
water, which was only partially revealed in the blackness. Suddenly they
both stopped.

"What's that?" Horace exclaimed.

A shrill whistle, followed by shouts, came to