"There he is," said another urchin; and Leroy turned to face that
individual, who was leaning against an open door.

"Am I speaking to Mr. Johann Wilfer?" he asked courteously.

"You are," returned Wilfer, taking the begrimed pipe from his mouth, and
staring with bloodshot eyes at the handsome, high-bred face before him.

"Can you tell me if a young girl named Jessica returned to you safely
this morning?" Leroy enquired.

"My niece, Jess, d'ye mean?" replied Wilfer, eyeing him suspiciously.
"Ain't seen 'er fer months; run away last June, after 'elping 'erself to
some of my cash, an' ain't been back since. 'Sides, what's it got to do
with you, Guv'nor, I'd like to know? You mind yer own bus'ness."

He leered drunkenly at Leroy, who turned away with a look of disgust. He
knew how useless it was to expect truth from such a quarter.

As the gentleman stepped out into the dirty court and returned to his
car Johann Wilfer blinked his eyes in relief; then with an oath he
stumbled up the rickety stairs into the living-room, and confronted
Jessica, who was standing near the window.

"So that's yer little game, is it?" he said with a sneer; "you're goin'
in for swells right away, are yer, my gal? Got your name as pat as a
poll-parrot. Knows all my private business, I dessay; I'll break every
bone in yer body!"

He stumbled towards her where she stood--her face still transfigured
with joy at the sound of her benefactor's voice--and made a sudden grab
at her hair. But, alert and lithe as a leopardess, she bounded over the
table, and slipped past him down the staircase, from the top of which he
launched forth a long volley of curses.

Quivering and shaking, both with fear of Wilfer's violence and her sense
of injury at his denial of her presence to Leroy, Jessica ran, as fast
as her frail body would permit her, through the intricate smaller
streets and passages which abound in the Soho district. Having gone far
enough, in her opinion, to be fairly safe from any danger of Wilfer's
pursuit, she stopped to consider whether she should endeavour to find
Leroy.

"After all," she thought, "perhaps it is best as it is. He would give
me money, or perhaps a few kind words, and only make me long for him
more. Let him go, believing Johann's falsehoods."

As she walked wearily along dim remembrances of earlier days thronged
her brain; of two women--one whom she knew she had called Auntie--and
who had treated her kindly enough, be