in the doorway. 'Do you hear me? Go to
bed!'

'I hear you, and defy you, Varden,' rejoined Simon Tappertit. 'This
night, sir, I have been in the country, planning an expedition which
shall fill your bell-hanging soul with wonder and dismay. The plot
demands my utmost energy. Let me pass!'

'I'll knock you down if you come near the door,' replied the locksmith.
'You had better go to bed!'

Simon made no answer, but gathering himself up as straight as he could,
plunged head foremost at his old master, and the two went driving out
into the workshop together, plying their hands and feet so briskly that
they looked like half-a-dozen, while Miggs and Mrs Varden screamed for
twelve.

It would have been easy for Varden to knock his old 'prentice down,
and bind him hand and foot; but as he was loth to hurt him in his then
defenceless state, he contented himself with parrying his blows when he
could, taking them in perfect good part when he could not, and keeping
between him and the door, until a favourable opportunity should present
itself for forcing him to retreat up-stairs, and shutting him up in his
own room. But, in the goodness of his heart, he calculated too much upon
his adversary's weakness, and forgot that drunken men who have lost
the power of walking steadily, can often run. Watching his time, Simon
Tappertit made a cunning show of falling back, staggered unexpectedly
forward, brushed past him, opened the door (he knew the trick of that
lock well), and darted down the street like a mad dog. The locksmith
paused for a moment in the excess of his astonishment, and then gave
chase.

It was an excellent season for a run, for at that silent hour the
streets were deserted, the air was cool, and the flying figure before
him distinctly visible at a great distance, as it sped away, with a long
gaunt shadow following at its heels. But the short-winded locksmith had
no chance against a man of Sim's youth and spare figure, though the day
had been when he could have run him down in no time. The space between
them rapidly increased, and as the rays of the rising sun streamed upon
Simon in the act of turning a distant corner, Gabriel Varden was fain
to give up, and sit down on a doorstep to fetch his breath. Simon
meanwhile, without once stopping, fled at the same degree of swiftness
to The Boot, where, as he well knew, some of his company were lying,
and at which respectable hostelry--for he had already acquired the
distin