w nothing. I'm the last man to consult about
such things.'

And Rolfe, with an abrupt 'Goodnight,' beckoned to a passing hansom.
The address he gave was Hugh Carnaby's, in Hamilton Terrace.

Twice already the horse had slipped at slimy crossings, when, near the
top of Regent Street, it fell full length, and the abrupt stoppage
caused a collision of wheels with another hansom which was just passing
at full speed in the same direction. Rolfe managed to alight in the
ordinary way, and at once heard himself greeted by a familiar voice
from the other cab. His acquaintance showed a pallid, drawn, all but
cadaverous visage, with eyes which concealed pain or weariness under
their friendly smile. Abbott was the man's name. Formerly a lecturer at
a provincial college, he had resigned his post on marrying, and taken
to journalism.

'I want to speak to you, Rolfe,' he said hurriedly, 'but I haven't a
moment to spare. Going to Euston--could you come along for a few
minutes?'

The vehicles were not damaged; Abbott's driver got quickly out of the
crowd, and the two men continued their conversation.

'Do you know anything of Wager?' inquired the journalist, with a
troubled look.

'He came to see me a few evenings ago--late.'

'Ha, he did! To borrow money, wasn't it?'

'Well, yes.'

'I thought so. He came to me for the same. Said he'd got a berth at
Southampton. Lie, of course. The fellow has disappeared, and left his
children--left them in a lodging-house at Hammersmith. How's that for
cool brutality? The landlady found my wife's address, and came to see
her. Address left out on purpose, I dare say. There was nothing for it
but to take care of the poor little brats.--Oh, damn!'

'What's the matter?'

'Neuralgia--driving me mad. Teeth, I think. I'll have every one
wrenched out of my head if this goes on. Never mind. What do you think
of Wager?'

'I remember, when we were at Guy's, he used to advocate the
nationalisation of offspring. Probably he had some personal interest in
the matter, even then.'

'Hound! I don't know whether to set the police after him or not. It
wouldn't benefit the children. I suppose it's no use hunting for his
family?'

'Not much, I should say.'

'Well, lucky we have no children of our own. Worst of it is, I don't
like the poor little wretches, and my wife doesn't either. We must find
a home for them.'

'I say, Abbott, you must let me go halves at that.'

'Hang it, no! Why should you supp