rits,
and the dull, crushing blow. The girl with the roses--ah, she had been
with him--had brought him here. He remembered the look in her eyes when
she had refused his money. At least he had ridded himself of that. He
tried to stretch himself. He was stiff and sore all over. His head was
throbbing like a steam engine, and he sank back upon the seat in the
throes of a cold, ghastly sickness. He remembered then that he had not
touched food for hours. He remembered too that he had not a penny in
the world.

For an hour or more he lay there partially unconscious. Physically he
was almost unable to move--his brain, however, was gradually clearing.
After all, perhaps the boldest course was the safest. He would go and
say, "Here am I, Douglas Guest--what do you want with me? It is true
that I took money from the old man, but it was my own. As to his death,
what do I know of that? Who heard me threaten him? Who saw me strike
him? There is no one."

He staggered up to his feet. The morning had come now, and people had
begun to stir. A few market waggons went rumbling by. There were
milk-carts in the streets, and sleepy-looking servants in print dresses
were showing their heads above the area steps. Douglas moved on with
unsteady footsteps. He passed a policeman who looked at him curiously,
and of whom he felt more than half inclined to ask the way to the
nearest police-station, then walked up into the square, where before him
hung a red lamp from a tall, red brick house with barred windows. He
peered in at the window. A fat sergeant was sitting at the table
yawning, the walls were hung with police bills, the room itself was the
quintessence of discomfort. The place repelled him strongly. He did
not like the look of the sergeant nor his possible quarters. After all,
why need he hurry? The day was young, and it was very unlikely that he
would be recognised. He strolled away with his hands in his pockets,
lighter-hearted with every step which took him away from those barred
windows.

Across the square, a fat little man was making strenuous efforts to
remove the shutter from in front of his shop. He looked round as
Douglas appeared, wiping the perspiration from his forehead, and
regarded him doubtfully.

"Will yer lend us a hand, guvnor?" he inquired.

Douglas was willing enough, and between them the job was soon finished.
The little man, who was a confectioner, explained that he had an
assistant who came from a distance, an