very glad they hadn't taken my keys.

'Slicer nor Savoury Sam neither's none the better o' you, and I hopes
you're not much the worse for them,' said Job, as he put into my hands
my purse and watch. 'Count it, gov'nor, and see if it's all right. Them
pusses is mannyfactered express for the convenience o' the fakers. Take
my advice, sir, and keep a yellow dump (sovereign) in yer coat-tails, a
flatch yenork (half-crown) in yer waistcoat, and yer yeneps (pence) in
yer breeches. You won't lose much nohow then. Good-night, sir, and I
wish you better.'

'But I must give you something for plaster,' I said. 'You'll take a
yellow dump, at least?'

'We'll talk about that another day,' said Job; and with a second still
heartier good-night, he left me. I managed to crawl up to my room, and
fell on my bed once more fainting. But I soon recovered sufficiently
to undress and get into it. I was feverish all night and next day, but
towards evening begun to recover.

I kept expecting Falconer to come and inquire after me; but he never
came. Nor did he appear the next day or the next, and I began to be very
uneasy about him. The fourth day I sent for a cab, and drove to John
Street. He was at home, but Mrs. Ashton, instead of showing me into his
room, led me into her kitchen, and left me there.

A minute after, Falconer came to me. The instant I saw him I understood
it all. I read it in his face: he had found his father.

CHAPTER XII. ANDREW AT LAST.

Having at length persuaded the woman to go with him, Falconer made her
take his arm, and led her off the bridge. In Parliament Street he was
looking about for a cab as they walked on, when a man he did not know,
stopped, touched his hat, and addressed him.

'I'm thinkin', sir, ye'll be sair wantit at hame the nicht It wad be
better to gang at ance, an' lat the puir fowk luik efter themsels for ae
nicht.'

'I'm sorry I dinna ken ye, man. Do ye ken me?'

'Fine that, Mr. Falconer. There's mony ane kens you and praises God.'

'God be praised!' returned Falconer. 'Why am I wanted at home?'

''Deed I wad raither not say, sir.--Hey!'

This last exclamation was addressed to a cab just disappearing down King
Street from Whitehall. The driver heard, turned, and in a moment more
was by their side.

'Ye had better gang into her an' awa' hame, and lea' the poor lassie to
me. I'll tak guid care o' her.'

She clung to Falconer's arm. The man opened the door of the cab.
Falconer pu