being
wicked. His training at the hands of chimney-pot Liz and the gentle
Susy had so far affected his arab spirit that he had learned, on the
whole, to prefer what he styled upright to dishonourable mischief. For
instance, he would not steal, but he had no objection to screen a thief
or laugh at his deeds. His natural tenderness of heart prevented his
being cruel to dogs or cats, but it did not prevent his ruffling some of
the former into furious rage, and terrifying many of the latter into
cataleptic fits.

One afternoon, having roved about for some time without aim, sometimes
howling in at open doors and bolting, frequently heaping banter upon
good-natured policemen, occasionally asking of mild old ladies the way
to places he had never heard of, or demanding what o'clock it was of
people who did not possess watches, and whistling most of the time with
irritating intensity--our little hero at last came to the conclusion
that felicity was not to be obtained by such courses--not at least, at
that time. He was out of sorts, somehow, so he would return to the
garden and comfort Susy and the old woman, i.e. find comfort to himself
in their society. He went whistling along, therefore, until his steps
were suddenly and violently arrested.

To account for this we must tell how, about this time, it chanced that a
very drunk man of the very lowest London type, as far as appearance
went, awoke from a heavy slumber which he had been enjoying under the
seat of a compartment in a certain low gin-palace. He was about to
stretch himself and give vent to a noisy yawn when the word "Laidlaw"
smote his ear. Pale, worn-out, cadaverous, threadbare, inexpressibly
mean, the man gently raised his dissolute form on one elbow and listened
to two men in a box beside him. Their heads met almost over the spot
where his own head rested. The men were Lockhart and Spivin, and the
occasion was that on which we have already described them as engaged in
plotting, or referring to, the downfall of the man from Scotland.

Trumps (for he was the listener), though well practised in the art of
eavesdropping, could not gather the gist of the plotters' discourse.
Only this he made out, that, in some way or other, they meant to do, or
had done, mischief to the man who had spared and helped, and, above all,
had _trusted him_! It was tantalising to hear so little, though so
near, for, from his position under the seat, he could have grasped Mr
Lockha