the
law in London, this to which our young friends were not unsuccessfully
directing their attention; one of the easiest to commit, moreover, for
a man with Bob's craft at his finger-ends. A mere question of a mould
and a pewter-pot, if one be content with the simpler branches of the
industry. 'The snyde' or 'the queer' is the technical name by which
such products are known. Distribution is, of course, the main
difficulty; it necessitates mutual trust between various confederates.
Bob Hewett still kept to his daily work, but gradually he was being
drawn into alliance with an increasing number of men who scorned the
yoke of a recognised occupation. His face, his clothing, his speech,
all told whither he was tending, had one but the experience necessary
for the noting of such points. Bob did not find his life particularly
pleasant; he was in perpetual fear; many a time he said to himself that
he would turn back. Impossible to do so; for a thousand reasons
impossible; yet he still believed that the choice lay with him.

His colloquy with Jack only lasted a few minutes, then he walked
homewards, crossing the Metropolitan Meat-market, going up St. John's
Lane, beneath St. John's Arch, thence to Rosoman Street and Merlin
Place, where at present he lived. All the way he pondered Clem's words.
Already their import had become familiar enough to lose that first
terribleness. Of course he should never take up the proposal seriously;
no, no, that was going a bit too far; but suppose Clem's husband were
really contriving this plot on his own account? Likely, very likely;
but he'd be a clever fellow if he managed such a thing in a way that
did not immediately subject him to suspicion. How could it be done? No
harm in thinking over an affair of that kind when you have no intention
of being drawn into it yourself. There was that man at Peckham who
poisoned his sister not long ago; he was a fool to get found out in the
way he did; he might have--

The room in which he found Pennyloaf sitting was so full of fog that
the lamp seemed very dim; the fire had all but died out. One of the
children lay asleep; the other Pennyloaf was nursing, for it had a bad
cough and looked much like a wax doll that has gone through a great
deal of ill-usage. A few more weeks and Pennyloaf would be again a
mother; she felt very miserable as often as she thought of it, and Bob
had several times spoken with harsh impatience on the subject.

At present he wa