r help,' said the policeman; 'I know you, and all the
damned lot of you.'

'Then I shall be compelled to give you a lesson,' said Falconer.

The man's only answer was a shake that made the woman cry out.

'I shall get into trouble if you get off,' said Falconer to her. 'Will
you promise me, on your word, to go with me to the station, if I rid you
of the fellow?'

'I will, I will,' said the woman.

'Then, look out,' said Falconer to the policeman; 'for I'm going to give
you that lesson.'

The officer let the woman go, took his baton, and made a blow at
Falconer. In another moment--I could hardly see how--he lay in the
street.

'Now, my poor woman, come along,' said Falconer.

She obeyed, crying gently. Two other policemen came up.

'Do you want to give that woman in charge, Mr. Falconer?' asked one of
them.

'I give that man in charge,' cried his late antagonist, who had just
scrambled to his feet. 'Assaulting the police in discharge of their
duty.'

'Very well,' said the other. 'But you're in the wrong box, and that
you'll find. You had better come along to the station, sir.'

'Keep that fellow from getting hold of the woman--you two, and we'll go
together,' said Falconer.

Bewildered with the rapid sequence of events, I was following in the
crowd. Falconer looked about till he saw me, and gave me a nod which
meant come along. Before we reached Bow Street, however, the offending
policeman, who had been walking a little behind in conversation with
one of the others, advanced to Falconer, touched his hat, and said
something, to which Falconer replied.

'Remember, I have my eye upon you,' was all I heard, however, as he left
the crowd and rejoined me. We turned and walked eastward again.

The storm kept on intermittently, but the streets were rather more
crowded than usual notwithstanding.

'Look at that man in the woollen jacket,' said Falconer. 'What a
beautiful outline of face! There must be something noble in that man.'

'I did not see him,' I answered, 'I was taken up with a woman's face,
like that of a beautiful corpse. It's eyes were bright. There was gin in
its brain.'

The streets swarmed with human faces gleaming past. It was a night of
ghosts.

There stood a man who had lost one arm, earnestly pumping bilge-music
out of an accordion with the other, holding it to his body with the
stump. There was a woman, pale with hunger and gin, three match-boxes
in one extended hand, and the other ho