e said at last. "If you'd only got a copper or two we
could ride; it's down Clapham way."

Mr. Wotton smiled feebly, and after going carefully through his pockets
shook his head and followed his friend outside.

"I wonder whether she'll be pleased?" he remarked, as they walked slowly
along. "She might be--women are funny creatures--so faithful. I knew
one whose husband used to knock 'er about dreadful, and after he died she
was so true to his memory she wouldn't marry again."

Mr. Davis grunted, and, with a longing eye at the omnibuses passing over
London Bridge, asked a policeman the distance to Clapham.

"Never mind," said Mr. Wotton, as his friend uttered an exclamation.
"You'll have money in your pocket soon."

Mr. Davis's face brightened. "And a watch and chain too," he said.

"And smoke your cigar of a Sunday," said Mr. Wotton, "and have a easy-
chair and a glass for a friend."

Mr. Davis almost smiled, and then, suddenly remembering his wasted twenty
years, shook his head grimly over the friendship that attached itself to
easy-chairs and glasses of ale, and said that there was plenty of it
about. More friendship than glasses of ale and easy-chairs, perhaps.

At Clapham, they inquired the way of a small boy, and, after following
the road indicated, retraced their steps, cheered by a faint but
bloodthirsty hope of meeting him again.

A friendly baker put them on the right track at last, both gentlemen
eyeing the road with a mixture of concern and delight. It was a road of
trim semi-detached villas, each with a well-kept front garden and neatly-
curtained windows. At the gate of a house with the word "Blairgowrie"
inscribed in huge gilt letters on the fanlight Mr. Davis paused for a
moment uneasily, and then, walking up the path, followed by Mr. Wotton,
knocked at the door.

He retired a step in disorder before the apparition of a maid in cap and
apron. A sharp "Not to-day!" sounded in his ears and the door closed
again. He faced his friend gasping.

"I should give her the sack first thing," said Mr. Wotton.

Mr. Davis knocked again, and again. The maid reappeared, and after
surveying them through the glass opened the door a little way and
parleyed.

"I want to see your missis," said Mr. Davis, fiercely.

"What for?" demanded the girl.

"You tell 'er," said Mr. Davis, inserting his foot just in time, "you
tell 'er that there's two gentlemen here what have brought 'er news of
her husban