it's all for Janey's sake. If you went and told father I'd
been saying anything against Percival--well, it would make things nasty
for me. I've put myself in your hands, but I know the kind of man you
are. It's only right you should hear of what's said. Don't worry; we'll
just wait a little, that's all. I mean it all for the little girl's
sake. It wouldn't be nice if you married her and then she was told--eh?'

Sidney looked at the speaker steadily, then stirred the fire and moved
about for a few moments. As he kept absolute silence, Joseph, after
throwing out a few vague assurances of goodwill and trust, rose to take
his leave. Kirkwood shook hands with him, but spoke not a word. Late
the same night Sidney penned a letter to Michael Snowdon. In the
morning he read it over, and instead of putting it into an envelope,
locked it away in one of his drawers.

When the evening for his visit to Hanover Street again came round he
again absented himself, this time just calling to leave word with the
servant that business kept him away. The business was that of walking
aimlessly about Clerkenwell, in mud and fog. About ten o'clock he came
to Farringdon Road Buildings, and with a glance up towards the Hewetts'
window he was passing by when a hand clutched at him. Turning, he saw
the face of John Hewett, painfully disturbed, strained in some wild
emotion.

'Sidney! Come this way; I want to speak to you.'

'Why, what's wrong?'

'Come over here. Sidney--I've found my girl--I've found Clara!'

CHAPTER XXVII

CLARA'S RETURN

Mrs. Eagles, a middle-aged woman of something more than average girth,
always took her time in ascending to that fifth storey where she and
her husband shared a tenement with the Hewett family. This afternoon
her pause on each landing was longer than usual, for a yellow fog,
which mocked the pale glimmer of gas-jets on the staircase, made her
gasp asthmatically. She carried, too, a heavy market-bag, having done
her Saturday purchasing earlier than of wont on account of the
intolerable weather. She reached the door at length, and being too much
exhausted to search her pocket for the latchkey, knocked for admission.
Amy Hewett opened to her, and she sank on a chair in the first room,
where the other two Hewett children were bending over 'home-lessons'
with a studiousness not altogether natural. Mrs. Eagles had a shrewd
eye; having glanced at Annie and Tom with a discreet smile, she turned
her look to