been caught trying to peep. I strained my ears for any fresh sound,
fancying that some one must be blowing a pair of bellows, such as may be
seen in any blacksmith's shop, until my attention was suddenly diverted.

'I never expect gratitude,' said Mr. Parsons, 'so I am not disappointed
if I don't get it. There are private goings on in every house, come to
that, and visitors have got to behave themselves.'

'Of course,' I answered, remembering the caution I had administered to
myself last night.

'People tell me I am what you may call a good-natured man,' he
continued. I noticed how thin his lips had become, and what an
unpleasant expression had come into his eyes. 'But if you rouse me,' he
exclaimed, 'I'm a Tartar--a Tartar I am! So you had better be careful.'

I was rapidly growing convinced that there was a mystery connected with
the house, and that the clue was to be found downstairs in what ought
to have been the back kitchen. But I had no time to think of this at
present, because Mr. Parsons said he intended to take me out. He
accompanied me into the passage, where he carefully brushed his tall hat
with his sleeve, and opened the street door, whilst I determined to lose
no opportunity of making my escape before we returned. The next minute
we were walking away from the house, and, to my surprise, Mr. Parsons
put his hand through my arm, holding it with what seemed to be a grip of
iron.

'Where are we going?' I asked, as we left the street.

'I want to make a deal with a friend of mine,' was the answer.
'Appearances are very important in this world, my lad. I like to see a
boy nicely dressed. I'm always very particular myself what I wear.'

'My clothes are all right,' I muttered.

'Ah, you think so, do you? Now, I'm very fond of a short black jacket
and a tall hat--a tall hat is most important.'

'You mean Etons?' I suggested.

'You will see what I mean before you're much older,' he answered, still
keeping his grip of my arm.

In a wider street in the neighbourhood of Edgware Road we stopped before
a good-sized second-hand clothes-shop, which was kept by a man, who
appeared to be a friend of Parsons. Telling me to enter first, he stood
blocking the doorway while he carried on a whispered conversation with
the shopkeeper.

'Take off your jacket,' he said, a few minutes later, as the shopman
began to show some folded suits of clothes.

Although I did not in the least like the notion of exchanging my o