nd, he
left me.

I should have had that twopenny framed to hang upon the wall, for it
was the man's one act of charity in all my knowledge of him. Instead of
that I stood looking at it in my hand and laughed out bitterly, as I
realised his mistake; then went to the ramparts, and flung it far into
the air like blood-money. The night was falling; through an embrasure
and across the gardened valley I saw the lamp-lighters hasting along
Princes Street with ladder and lamp, and looked on moodily. As I was so
standing a hand was laid upon my shoulder, and I turned about. It was
Major Chevenix, dressed for the evening, and his neckcloth really
admirably folded. I never denied the man could dress.

"Ah!" said he, "I thought it was you, Champdivers. So he's gone?"

I nodded.

"Come, come," said he, "you must cheer up. Of course it's very
distressing, very painful and all that. But do you know, it ain't such a
bad thing either for you or me? What with his death and your visit to
him I am entirely reassured."

So I was to owe my life to Goguelat at every point.

"I had rather not discuss it," said I.

"Well," said he, "one word more and I'll agree to bury the subject. What
did you fight about?"

"O, what do men ever fight about?" I cried.

"A lady?" said he.

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Deuce you did!" said he. "I should scarce have thought it of him."

And at this my ill-humour broke fairly out in words. "He!" I cried. "He
never dared to address her--only to look at her and vomit his vile
insults! She may have given him sixpence: if she did, it may take him to
heaven yet!"

At this I became aware of his eyes set upon me with a considering look,
and brought up sharply.

"Well, well," said he. "Good-night to you, Champdivers. Come to me at
breakfast-time to-morrow, and we'll talk of other subjects."

I fully admit the man's conduct was not bad: in writing it down so long
after the events I can even see that it was good.

CHAPTER IV

ST. IVES GETS A BUNDLE OF BANK-NOTES

I was surprised one morning, shortly after, to find myself the object of
marked consideration by a civilian and a stranger. This was a man of the
middle age; he had a face of a mulberry colour, round black eyes,
comical tufted eyebrows, and a protuberant forehead, and was dressed in
clothes of a Quakerish cut. In spite of his plainness, he had that
inscrutable air of a man well-to-do in his affairs. I conceived he had
been some while