eelings and
weaknesses! No! One could not make a comrade of a man like Keith, even
if he were one's brother? The only creature in all the world was the
girl. She alone knew and felt what he was feeling; would put up with him
and love him whatever he did, or was done to him. He stopped and took
shelter in a doorway, to light a cigarette. He had suddenly a fearful
wish to pass the archway where he had placed the body; a fearful wish
that had no sense, no end in view, no anything; just an insensate
craving to see the dark place again. He crossed Borrow Street to the
little lane. There was only one person visible, a man on the far side
with his shoulders hunched against the wind; a short, dark figure which
crossed and came towards him in the flickering lamplight. What a face!
Yellow, ravaged, clothed almost to the eyes in a stubbly greyish growth
of beard, with blackish teeth, and haunting bloodshot eyes. And what
a figure of rags--one shoulder higher than the other, one leg a
little lame, and thin! A surge of feeling came up in Laurence for this
creature, more unfortunate than himself. There were lower depths than
his!

"Well, brother," he said, "you don't look too prosperous!"

The smile which gleamed out on the man's face seemed as unlikely as a
smile on a scarecrow.

"Prosperity doesn't come my way," he said in a rusty voice. "I'm a
failure--always been a failure. And yet you wouldn't think it, would
you?--I was a minister of religion once."

Laurence held out a shilling. But the man shook his head.

"Keep your money," he said. "I've got more than you to-day, I daresay.
But thank you for taking a little interest. That's worth more than money
to a man that's down."

"You're right."

"Yes," the rusty voice went on; "I'd as soon die as go on living as
I do. And now I've lost my self-respect. Often wondered how long a
starving man could go without losing his self-respect. Not so very long.
You take my word for that." And without the slightest change in the
monotony of that creaking voice he added:

"Did you read of the murder? Just here. I've been looking at the place."

The words: 'So have I!' leaped up to Laurence's lips; he choked them
down with a sort of terror.

"I wish you better luck," he said. "Goodnight!" and hurried away. A sort
of ghastly laughter was forcing its way up in his throat. Was everyone
talking of the murder he had committed? Even the very scarecrows?

III

There are some natures