und the twisted chimneys of
the _Hit or Miss_. The day had been a trial to every sense. First there
would come a long-drawn distant moan, a sigh like that of a querulous
woman; then the sigh grew nearer and became a shriek, as if the same
woman were working herself up into a passion; and finally a gust of
rainy hail, mixed with dust and small stones, was dashed, like a parting
insult, on the windows of the _Hit or Miss_.

Then the shriek died away again into a wail and a moan, and so _da
capo_.

"Well, Eliza, what do you do now that the pantomime season is over?"
said Barton to Miss Gullick, who was busily dressing a doll, as she
perched on the table in the parlor of the _Hit or Miss_.

Barton occasionally looked into the public-house, partly to see that
Maitland's investment was properly managed, partly because the place was
near the scene of his labors; not least, perhaps, because he had still
an unacknowledged hope that light on the mystery of Margaret would come
from the original centre of the troubles.

"I'm in no hurry to take an engagement," answered the resolute Eliza,
holding up and examining her doll. It was a fashionable doll, in a
close-fitting tweed ulster, which covered a perfect panoply of other
female furniture, all in the latest mode. As the child worked, she
looked now and then at the illustrations in a journal of the fashions.
"There's two or three managers in treaty with me," said Eliza. "There's
the _Follies and Frivolities_ down Norwood way, and the _Varieties_ in
the 'Ammersmith Road. Thirty shillings a week and my dresses, that's
what I ask for, and I'll get it too! Just now I'm taking a vacation, and
making an honest penny with these things," and she nodded at a little
basket full of the wardrobe of dolls.

"Do you sell the dresses to the toy-shops, Eliza?" asked Barton.

"Yes," said Eliza; "I am doing well with them. I'm not sure I shan't
need to take on some extra hands, by the job, to finish my Easter
orders."

"Pm glad you are successful," answered Barton. "I say, Eliza!"

"Yes, Doctor."

"Would you mind showing me the room up-stairs where poor old Shields was
sitting the night before he was found in the snow?"

It had suddenly occurred to Barton--it might have occurred to him
before--that this room might be worth examining.

"We ain't using it now! Ill show you it," said Eliza, leading the way
up-stairs, and pointing to a door.

Barton took hold of the handle.

"Ladies firs