. The landlord, who had been brought from his
shop below by the noise, and who thought it very desirable to take the
first opportunity that offered of breaking up the party before any more
grog was consumed, officiously ran down stairs, and called a cab--the
result of this maneuver proving in the sequel to be what the tobacconist
desired. The moment the sound of wheels was heard at the door, Mr.
Blyth clamored peremptorily for his hat and coat; and, after some
little demur, was at last helped into the cab in the most friendly and
attentive manner by Mat himself.

"Just see the lights out upstairs, and the young 'un in bed, will ye?"
said Mat to his landlord, as they stood together on the door-step. "I'm
going to blow some of the smoke out of me by taking a turn in the fresh
air."

He walked away briskly, as he said the last words; but when he got to
the end of the street, instead of proceeding northwards towards
the country, and the cool night-breeze that was blowing from it, he
perversely turned southwards towards the filthiest little lanes and
courts in the whole neighborhood.

Stepping along at a rapid pace, he directed his course towards that
particular row of small and vile houses which he had already visited
early in the day; and stopped, as before, at the second-hand iron
shop. It was shut up for the night; but a dim light, as of one farthing
candle, glimmered through the circular holes in the tops of the
shutters; and when Mat knocked at the door with his knuckles; it was
opened immediately by the same hump-backed shopman with whom he had
conferred in the morning.

"Got it?" asked the hunch-back in a cracked querulous voice the moment
the door was ajar.

"All right," answered Mat in his gruffest bass tones, handing to the
little man the tin tobacco-box.

"We said to-morrow evening, didn't we?" continued the squalid shopman.

"Not later than six," added Mat.

"Not later than six," repeated the other, shutting the door softly as
his customer walked away--northward this time--to seek the fresh air in
good earnest.

CHAPTER XI. THE GARDEN DOOR.

"Hit or miss, I'll chance it to-night" Those words were the first that
issued from Mat's lips on the morning after Mr. Blyth's visit, as he
stood alone amid the festive relics of the past evening, in the front
room at Kirk Street. "To-night," he repeated to himself, as he pulled
off his coat and prepared to make his toilette for the day in a pail of
cold