Before we reached the next station, the old gentleman made several remarks about the condition of the crops, the beauty of the country, and the unusual quantity of rain that had recently fallen, and when presently the train stopped again, and the woman at the farther end of the compartment rose from her seat, he put out a hand to open the door, though he nodded without raising his hat when she turned to thank him from the platform.

'Now, I wonder,' he said, when we were on the way again, 'if you are able to oblige me?'

'How?' I asked.

'I want two shillings and sixpence or sixpenny-worth of coppers for a half-crown piece.'

'I think I can do that,' I answered, thrusting a hand into my pocket.

'You may think it strange that I should ask you,' he suggested.

'Not at all.'

'But,' he continued, 'I hadn't time to get change, and I want a paper at the next station.'

Bringing out a handful of silver, I gave him two shillings and a sixpence, whereupon he handed me a half-crown in exchange.

'It looks like a new one,' I remarked.

'I trust it may bring you good fortune, my lad,' he answered. 'Though, in one respect, you certainly seem to be well provided for already.'

I suppose I smiled with satisfaction.

'But,' he continued, 'never forget one thing. Money is the root of all evil—the root of all evil.'

'Do you live in London?' I asked presently.

'Yes,' he replied, 'although it does not agree with my delicate throat. But we cannot choose where we would wish to live.'

'I wonder,' I said, a little hesitatingly, 'whether you could tell me where to find a lodging?'

'Ah,' he cried, 'you may be sure of this! If I can assist you in any way I shall be very happy—very happy indeed. Of course it is to some extent a question of what you are prepared to pay.'

'I must not pay much,' I said, 'because, you see, I may not get anything to do just at present.'

'So you have come to London to try your fortune?'

'Yes,' I said. 'I only want just a bedroom.'

He was looking up at the rack over my head.

'Your luggage is in the van?' he remarked.

'I have no luggage,' I answered, realising that this must appear a somewhat serious drawback.

'May I inquire how much money you possess?' he asked.

'A little over a pound.'

'Ah!' he cried; 'and that is to be the beginning of a fortune, we will hope. I have always taken a great interest in young men,' he continued. 'Now, let me see what we can do. I live with my son and my daughter-in-law, and it is just possible she might accommodate you, if you would like to come with me when we get out of this train.'

'I should like it very much indeed,' I answered, congratulating myself that I had not been backward in asking his advice. I felt no shadow of doubt concerning his good faith. He looked so entirely respectable that I should have gone anywhere at his bidding. So, when the train stopped at the London terminus I walked by his side through the booking-office, out of the station-yard, and took a seat on an omnibus without an instant's hesitation. I noticed that he had a way of turning his head very quickly, almost as if he were looking out for some one, and I thought it nice of him to insist on paying my fare. We took two omnibuses before we alighted at the corner of Baker Street and Marylebone Road, when, holding my arm in a most friendly manner, he led me in the direction of Lisson Grove, although at the time I had no idea whither we were going.

After passing through one or two quiet squares and dingy streets, we reached one which looked more dingy still, with its rows of narrow, high terrace houses, a number of unkempt children playing about the road, and a fish-hawker bawling by the kerb. At one of the dingy-looking houses my companion stopped, taking a latch-key from his waistcoat pocket; but as soon as he opened the door a woman came out of a room, standing with her arms akimbo in front of him, while I brought up the rear.

She was tall, like the old man, but her face was red and puffy, while a wisp of fair hair fell untidily over her forehead. She wore a dirty-looking dress, with several buttons missing, their places being supplied by pins.

'Who's the kid?' she asked, and it was impossible to imagine that she felt pleased at my presence.

'A young friend I happened to meet in the train,' he answered in a curious tone. 'This way, my lad,' he added, 'this way,' and, stepping past the woman, he opened a door of a back room. 'Just sit down for a moment till I come back,' he said, although there was nothing to sit upon but a bed.

Closing the door, he went away, and I heard him entering the front room. I suddenly became the prey of all manner of anxious feelings. The house itself was close and stuffy, with a curious odour as of some pungent acid. I did not feel favourably impressed by the appearance of the woman. But when a few minutes had passed the sound of voices reached my ears, although it was impossible to hear the words with any distinctness. Knowing that the old man was in all probability discussing me with the woman who must be his daughter, I did what I may safely say I had never attempted before in my life. Overcome with eagerness to learn what was being said concerning myself, I stole towards the door, opened it, and played the eavesdropper.

Even now I could not make out half their meaning, and what I heard only served to perplex and frighten me.

'I tell you he is just what we want,' said the man, and the only word I could catch in the woman's answer was—'Risk!'

'An open-faced, honest-looking boy,' he continued. 'You have only to look at him a second to feel you can trust him. Dress him properly, and he is as good as a fortune.'

If it had seemed possible to dart along the passage and out through the front door, I should have done so, but my knees were shaking under me; and, hearing fresh movements in the next room, I drew back and reclosed the door. A few minutes later the man returned.

'Come this way,' he said, and I followed him into the front room. 'My daughter, Mrs. Loveridge,' he continued, 'does not like strangers, but I have persuaded her to treat you as a member of the family——'

'But if you would rather not!' I cried, looking up into her face.

'We are not rich people,' he said, entirely ignoring my outburst, 'but what we have we are willing to share—now, no one can say fairer than that. You give up what money you have got in that pocket of yours, and, when you have taken it out in board and lodging, we will see whether we can't manage to find you some useful work to do. So hand out, my lad!'

CHAPTER XVII.

Although he had looked so benevolent in the train, I had already begun to fear this urbane old man far more than I had previously feared the tramp at Broughton. With an uncomfortable feeling that he had got me in his power, I could see no way of quickly getting out of it. To refuse to hand over my money was out of the question, although, with an appearance of kindness, he gave me back the particular half-crown which I had changed for him in the train.

The next few hours went by wretchedly enough. Mr. Parsons (for that I learned was his name) did not leave me for a moment alone, and there was nothing to divert my thoughts from the extremely disagreeable situation. I could see no sign of any kind of book; and, indeed, the only form of print in the house seemed to be half of an old newspaper. At about half-past eight, Mrs. Loveridge began to prepare for something resembling a meal by placing on the table, without a cloth, a piece of bacon, and some bread and cheese. When it was supposed to be ready I made the acquaintance of Mr. Loveridge, a small, pale-faced, dark-haired man, with one leg shorter than the other. He wore a boot with a very thick cork sole, and walked with crutches. Mr. Loveridge scarcely opened his lips, but greeted me with a long, keen stare. Although I did not feel the least appetite, I made a pretence of eating.

After supper, we all sat round the table, just as it was, while the men smoked, and talked in a jargon which it was impossible to understand.

'Better put the kid to bed,' said Loveridge, presently; and, indeed, I was beginning to feel exceedingly curious as to my sleeping quarters.

Rising from her chair, Mrs. Loveridge led the way upstairs to the top of the house, where she opened a door and said that was to be my room.

'Can I have a candle?' I asked.

'No, you can't,' she answered. 'And you needn't be afraid. We always lock the front door and take out the key, and sleep with one eye open in this house.'

With that she went downstairs and I shut the door. The window had neither blind nor curtains, and the room was almost dark. I could, however, distinguish a bed on the floor, and suddenly I remembered the last and only other time I had slept in a bedroom without a bed—at Mrs. Riddles', at Polehampton—and sincerely wished myself back in that cupboard, despite its nearness to Castlemore. I prayed earnestly to God to watch over me, for I knew instinctively that I was in some great danger. I felt that I had fallen among thieves—if these people were not thieves, what could they be?

I reproached myself for having been so easily deceived by Parsons, and determined to make my escape at the earliest opportunity. The hint in Mrs. Loveridge's parting words had not been necessary to convince me of the uselessness of trying to get away during the night, so I lay down on the mattress and the blankets (there were no sheets) and tried to make up my mind how to act. I could not believe that the object of Parsons in bringing me to his house had been merely to obtain the small sum of money I possessed. Yet he appeared eager to detain me, and he had persuaded his daughter of the need for such detention. It seemed to follow that he meant to make use of me in some way—some undesirable way, no doubt. In vain I racked my brains, before I fell asleep that miserable night, to see through his design. But I realised that my situation had become worse than ever, and it seemed difficult to imagine that only yesterday I had been the companion of Jacintha and her brother. I determined to do my utmost to disguise my suspicions, to exercise patience and—for once—judgment, and to await a favourable opportunity with all the courage I could muster.

(Continued on page 146.)