truckle-bed in the corner, and, removing the cover, revealed the mangled
and bloody but still breathing form of Abel Bones.

"He seemed to be a bit unhinged in his mind," said one of the men in
reply to Aspel's inquiring look--"was seen goin' recklessly across the
road, and got run over. We would 'ave took 'im to the hospital, but he
preferred to be brought here."

"All right. George," said Bones in a low voice, "I'll be better in a
little. It was an accident. Send 'em away, an' try if you can find my
old girl and Tottie.--It is strange," he continued faintly, as Aspel
bent over him, "that the lady I wanted to rob set me free, for Tottie's
sake; and the boy I cast adrift in London risked his life for Tottie;
and the man I tried to ruin saved her; and the man I have often cursed
from my door has brought me at last to the Sinner's Friend. Strange!
very strange!"

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

TELLS OF A SHAM FIGHT AND A REAL BATTLE.

There are periods in the busy round of labour at the great heart in St.
Martin's-le-Grand when some members of the community cease work for a
time and go off to enjoy a holiday.

Such periods do not occur to all simultaneously, else would the great
postal work of the kingdom come to a dead-lock. They are distributed so
that the action of the heart never flags, even when large drafts are
made on the working staff, as when a whole battalion of the employes
goes out for a field-day in the garb of Volunteers.

There are between eight and nine hundred men of the Post-Office, who,
not content with carrying Her Majesty's mails, voluntarily carry Her
Majesty's rifles. These go through the drudgery and drill of military
service at odd hours, as they find time, and on high occasions they
march out to the martial strains of fife and drum.

On one such occasion the Post-Office battalion (better known as the 49th
Middlesex) took part in a sham fight, which Phil Maylands and Peter Pax
(who chanced to have holidays at the time) went out to see. They did
not take part in it, not being Volunteers, but they took pride in it, as
worthy, right-spirited men of the Post could not fail to do.

The 49th Middlesex distinguished themselves on that occasion. Their
appearance as they marched on to the battle-ground--some distance out of
London--bore creditable comparison with the best corps in the service.
So said Pax; and Pax was a good judge, being naturally critical.

When the fight began, and the ra