these murders in the first degree happen; and I think that I was almost on
the point of taking the first step. I really think I look a little like
Babe the pirate," added the poor man, glancing at his mild but disturbed
features in the glass; "or like Captain Kidd, or leastways like Country
McClusky--a regular bruiser!"

Sitting down before the grate, and stirring it feebly with the poker,
he tried to devise some feasible plan for supplying the vacuum in his
treasury. He might borrow, but then all his friends were very poor,
and particularly hard up--at this particular season of the year. The
bull's eye watch might have been "spouted," if he had foreseen this
contingency; but every avuncular relative was now at this hour of the
night snug abed to a dead certainty. Purchasing on credit was not to
be thought of, and the only toy shop which kept open late enough for
his purchases, was kept by a man to whom he was totally unknown. Time
galloped on, meanwhile, and the half-hour struck.

"I'll slip that letter in the post-office, and then go home," said
Simon sorrowfully, rising as he spoke, and grasping his inseparable
umbrella.

"Hallo! shipmate! where-away?" cried a hoarse voice. And Mr. Quillpen
became aware of the presence of an "ancient mariner," enveloped in a
very rough dreadnought, and finished off with a large amount of
whiskers and tarpaulin.

"I was going home, sir," replied Simon, with the deferential air of a
very little to a very big man.

"Ay--going to clap on hatches and deadlights. Well, tell me one
thing--where-away may one find one Mr. Latitat--a shore-going cove, a
regular land-shark, d'ye see?"

"This is Mr. Latitat's office, sir," said Simon.

"Ay--and is he within hail?"

"No, sir, he has gone home."

"Slipped his cable--hey? just my luck! Well, one might snooze
comfortably on this here table--mightn't he? You can clear out, and
I'll take care of the shop till morning."

"That would be perfectly inadmissible, sir," said Simon, "the idea of
a stranger's sleeping here!"

"A stranger!" cried the sailor. "Why, shipmate, do you happen to know
who I am? Look at me! Don't you find somewhat of a family likeness to
Lucius in my old weather-beaten mug? Why, man-alive, I'm his
brother,--his own blood brother! You must a heard him speak of me.
Been cruising round the world in chase of Fortune, but could never
overhaul her. Been sick, shipwrecked, and now come back as poor as I
went. But Lucius has g