assage. A moment after there
sounded from that direction a shrill whistle. Bob and the girl regarded
each other.

'Who was that?' said the former suspiciously. 'I half believe it was
Jeck Bartley. If Jeck is up to any of his larks, I'll make him remember
it. You wait here a minute!'

He walked at a sharp pace towards the suspected quarter. Scarcely had
he gone half a dozen yards, when there came running from the other end
of the Passage a girl whom Pennyloaf at once recognised. It was Clem
Peckover; with some friend's assistance she had evidently tracked the
couple and was now springing out of ambush. She rushed upon Pennyloaf,
who for very alarm could not flee, and attacked her with clenched
fists. A scream of terror and pain caused Bob to turn and run back.
Pennyloaf could not even ward off the blows that descended upon her
head; she was pinned against the wall, her hat was torn away, her hair
began to fly in disorder. But Bob effected a speedy rescue. He gripped
Clem's muscular arms, and forced them behind her back as if he meant to
dismember her. Even then it was with no slight effort that he
restrained the girl's fury.

'You run off 'ome!' he shouted to Pennyloaf. 'If she tries this on
again, I'll murder her!'

Pennyloaf's hysterical cries and the frantic invectives of her
assailant made the Passage ring. Again Bob roared to the former to be
off, and was at length obeyed. When Pennyloaf was out of sight he
released Clem. Her twisted arms caused her such pain that she threw
herself against the wall, mingling maledictions with groans. Bob burst
into scornful laughter.

Clem went home vowing vengeance. In the nether world this trifling
dissension might have been expected to bear its crop of violent
language and straightway pass into oblivion; but Miss Peckover's
malevolence was of no common stamp, and the scene of to-night
originated a feud which in the end concerned many more people than
those immediately interested.

CHAPTER IX

PATHOLOGICAL

Through the day and through the evening Clara Hewett had her place
behind Mrs. Tubbs's bar. For daylight wear, the dress which had
formerly been her best was deemed sufficient; it was simple, but not
badly made, and became her figure. Her evening attire was provided by
Mrs. Tubbs, who recouped herself by withholding the promised wages for
a certain number of weeks. When Clara had surveyed this garment in the
bar mirror, she turned away contemptuously; the mate