h we were a
little nearer home, you should go in to rest; but our house is in Brook
Street, and we have no women-kind belonging to us. My name is John
Senior. Perhaps you have heard of my father, Dr. Senior, of Brook
Street?"

"No." I replied, "I know nobody in London."

"That's bad," he said. "I wish I was Jane Senior instead of John Senior;
I do indeed. Do you feel better now, Miss Martineau?"

"How do you know my name?" I asked.

"The clerk at Ridley's called you Miss Ellen Martineau," he answered.
"My hearing is very good, and I was not deeply engrossed in my business.
I heard and saw a good deal while I was there, and I am very glad I
heard and saw you. Do you feel well enough now for me to see you home?"

"Oh! I cannot let you see me home," I said, hurriedly.

"I will do just what you like best." he replied. "I have no more right
to annoy you than that drunken vagabond had. If I did, I should be more
blamable than he was. Tell me what I shall do for you then. Shall I call
a cab?"

I hesitated, for my funds were low, and would be almost spent by the
time I had paid the premium of ten pounds, and my travelling expenses;
yet I dared not trust myself either in the streets or in an omnibus. I
saw my new friend regard me keenly; my dress, so worn and faded, and my
old-fashioned bonnet. A smile flickered across his face. He led me back
into Fleet Street, and called an empty cab that was passing by. We shook
hands warmly. There was no time for loitering; and I told him the name
of the suburb where I was living, and he repeated it to the cabman.

"All right," he said, speaking through the window, "the fare is paid,
and I've taken cabby's number. If he tries to cheat you, let me know;
Dr. John Senior, Brook Street. I hope that situation will be a good one,
and very pleasant. Good-by."

"Good-by," I cried, leaning forward and looking at his face till the
crowd came between us, and I lost sight of it. It was a handsomer face
than Dr. Martin Dobree's, and had something of the same genial,
vivacious light about it. I knew it well afterward, but I had not
leisure to think much of it then.

CHAPTER THE FIFTH.

BELLRINGER STREET.

I was still trembling with the terror that my meeting with Richard
Foster had aroused. A painful shuddering agitated me, and my heart
fluttered with an excess of fear which I could not conquer. I could
still feel his grasp upon my arm, where the skin was black with the
mark; and t