n her place, seeking a night's shelter before escaping to America, or
while hiding from justice. It was neither her habit nor her business to
answer questions. All she asked was to be let alone and paid for her
lodgings. She knew Reginald had her in a sense at his mercy, for he
knew the disease the man had died of, and a word from him out of doors
would bring her own pestiferous house about her ears and ruin her.

But when he muttered those words to himself she concluded he was a
criminal of some sort in hiding, and criminals in hiding, as she knew,
were not the people to go and report the sanitary arrangements of their
lodgings to the police.

So she mollified towards him somewhat, and told him she would look after
her affairs if he looked after his, and as he had not had a good night
last night, well, if no one else wanted the bed to-night he could have
it at half-price; and after that she hoped she would have done with him.

Reginald returned to the foul garret, and found Love still asleep, but
tossing restlessly, and muttering to himself the while.

He sat down beside him and waited till he opened his eyes.

At first the boy looked round in a bewildered way as though he were
hardly yet awake, but presently his eyes fell on Reginald and his face
lit up.

"Gov'nor," he said, with a smile, sitting up.

"Well, old boy," said Reginald, "what a long sleep you've had. Are you
rested?"

"I 'ave 'ad sich dreams, gov'nor, and--my, ain't it cold!" And he
shivered.

The room was stifling. Scarcely a breath of fresh air penetrated
through its battered roof, still less through the tiny unopened window
at the other end.

"We'll get some breakfast to make you warm," said Reginald. "This
horrible place is enough to make any one feel sick."

The boy got slowly out of bed.

"We 'ave got to earn some browns," he said, "afore we can get any
breakfast."

He shivered still, and sat down on the edge of the bed for a moment.
Then he gathered himself together with an effort and walked to the
ladder. Reginald's heart sank within him. The boy was not well. His
face was flushed, his walk was uncertain, and his teeth chattered
incessantly. It might be only the foul atmosphere of the room, or it
might be something worse. And as he thought of it he too shivered, but
not on account of the cold.

They descended the ladder, and for a little while the boy seemed revived
by the fresh morning air. Reginald insisted on his