e (barring accidents), all was done.
Keeping the child resting easily on his left arm, he had his right
hand free to shut the door again. Arrived at the garden steps, a slight
change passed over the sleeping infant's face--the delicate little
creature shivered as it felt the full flow of the open air. He softly
laid over its face a corner of the woollen shawl in which it was
wrapped. The child reposed as quietly on his arm as if it had still been
on the nurse's lap.

In a minute more he was at the paling. The woman rose to receive him,
with the first smile that had crossed her face since they had left
London.

"So you've got the baby," she said, "Well, you _are_ a deep one!"

"Take it," he answered irritably. "We haven't a moment to lose."

Only stopping to put on his shoes, he led the way towards the more
central part of the town. The first person he met directed him to the
railway station. It was close by. In five minutes more the woman and the
baby were safe in the train to London.

"There's the other half of the money," he said, handing it to her
through the carriage window.

The woman eyed the child in her arms with a frowning expression of
doubt. "All very well as long as it lasts," she said. "And what after
that?"

"Of course, I shall call and see you," he answered.

She looked hard at him, and expressed the whole value she set on that
assurance in four words. "Of course you will!"

The train started for London. Farnaby watched it, as it left the
platform, with a look of unfeigned relief. "There!" he thought to
himself. "Emma's reputation is safe enough now! When we are married, we
mustn't have a love-child in the way of our prospects in life."

Leaving the station, he stopped at the refreshment room, and drank a
glass of brandy-and-water. "Something to screw me up," he thought, "for
what is to come." What was to come (after he had got rid of the child)
had been carefully considered by him, on the journey to Ramsgate.
"Emma's husband-that-is-to-be"--he had reasoned it out--"will naturally
be the first person Emma wants to see, when the loss of the baby has
upset the house. If Old Ronald has a grain of affection left in him, he
must let her marry me after _that!"_

Acting on this view of his position, he took the way that led back
to Slains Row, and rang the door-bell as became a visitor who had no
reasons for concealment now.

The household was doubtless already disorganized by the discovery of
th