sted, reading knowledge in her eyes.

"Is it trouble you mean for him?" asked the woman, "and him such a
fine, well-set-up young man, too! Is it trouble? Oh, dear, I always
thought he got his money on the cross. Look here. I ain't going to
round on him, though he has gone away and left a comfortable room. So
there! And you may go."

Lala Roy opened his hand. There were at least five golden sovereigns
glorifying his dingy palm.

"Can gold," the moralist asked, "ever increase the virtue of man?
Woman, how much?"

"Is it trouble?" she repeated, looking greedily at the money. "Will
the young man get copped?"

Lala understood no London slang. But he showed his hand again.

"How much? Who so is covetous let him know that his heart is poor. How
much?"

"Poor young man! I'll take them all, please, sir. What's he done?"

"Where does he live?"

"I know where he lives," she said, "because our Bill rode away with
him at the back of his cab, and saw where he got out. He's married
now, and his wife sings at the music-hall, and he lives on her
earnings. Quite the gentleman he is now, and smokes cigars all day
long. There's his address, and thank you for the money. Oh," she said
with a gasp. "To think that people can earn five pounds so easy."

"May the gold procure you happiness--such happiness as you desire!"
said Lala Roy.

"It will nearly pay the quarter's rent. And that's about happiness
enough for one morning."

Joe was sitting in his room alone, half asleep. In fact, he had a head
upon him. He sprung to his feet, however, when he saw Lala Roy.

"Hallo!" he cried. "You here, Nig? How the devil did you find out my
address?"

There was not only astonishment, but some alarm upon his countenance.

"Never mind. I want a little conversation with you, Mr. Joseph."

"Well, sit down and let us have it out. I say, have you come to tell
me that you did sneak those papers, after all? What did you get for
them?"

"I have not come to tell you that. I dare say, however, we shall be
able, some day, to tell you who did steal the papers--if any were
stolen, that is."

"Quite so, my jolly mariner. If any were stolen. Ho, ho! you've got to
prove that first, haven't you? How's the old man?"

"He is ill; he is feeble with age; he is weighed down with misfortune.
I am come, Mr. Joseph, to ask your help for him."

"My help for him? Why, can't he help himself?"

"Four or five years ago he incurred a debt for one who forged his