t him, as though he were claiming to be a Ghost.

'The steamer,' said Mr Riderhood, obstinately, 'run me down and drownded
of me. Interference on the part of other parties brought me round; but
I never asked 'em to bring me round, nor yet the steamer never asked 'em
to it. I mean to be paid for the life as the steamer took.'

'Was that your business at Mr Lightwood's chambers in the middle of the
night?' asked Bradley, eyeing him with distrust.

'That and to get a writing to be fust-hand Lock Keeper. A recommendation
in writing being looked for, who else ought to give it to me? As I says
in the letter in my daughter's hand, with my mark put to it to make it
good in law, Who but you, Lawyer Lightwood, ought to hand over this here
stifficate, and who but you ought to go in for damages on my account
agin the Steamer? For (as I says under my mark) I have had trouble
enough along of you and your friend. If you, Lawyer Lightwood, had
backed me good and true, and if the T'other Governor had took me down
correct (I says under my mark), I should have been worth money at the
present time, instead of having a barge-load of bad names chucked at me,
and being forced to eat my words, which is a unsatisfying sort of food
wotever a man's appetite! And when you mention the middle of the night,
T'otherest Governor,' growled Mr Riderhood, winding up his monotonous
summary of his wrongs, 'throw your eye on this here bundle under my arm,
and bear in mind that I'm a walking back to my Lock, and that the Temple
laid upon my line of road.'

Bradley Headstone's face had changed during this latter recital, and he
had observed the speaker with a more sustained attention.

'Do you know,' said he, after a pause, during which they walked on side
by side, 'that I believe I could tell you your name, if I tried?'

'Prove your opinion,' was the answer, accompanied with a stop and a
stare. 'Try.'

'Your name is Riderhood.'

'I'm blest if it ain't,' returned that gentleman. 'But I don't know
your'n.'

'That's quite another thing,' said Bradley. 'I never supposed you did.'

As Bradley walked on meditating, the Rogue walked on at his side
muttering. The purport of the muttering was: 'that Rogue Riderhood, by
George! seemed to be made public property on, now, and that every man
seemed to think himself free to handle his name as if it was a Street
Pump.' The purport of the meditating was: 'Here is an instrument. Can I
use it?'

They had walked al