ur which sent her staggering into
a chair, and stepped into the squalid, reeking room. Hunched up in a
chair, opposite the woman, sat a snoring man.

"Come!" said Sir Tancred. "I want no nonsense! Where's the child?"

A dull, muddled rage gathered in the woman's eyes; she made an effort
to rise on quite irresponsive legs. "Halbut!" she howled. "Halbut,
wake up! Here's a thief an' a burglar trying to steal the brat!"

The man grunted, and jerked out of his sleep with the mystic word,
"Washishish?"

"It'sh burglarsh, Halbut!" cried the woman, who seemed suddenly to see
two or more Sir Tancreds. "They're shtealing bratsh! Bash 'em!"

Halbut jerked onto his feet, and stood lurching:

"Englishmansh oush ish ish cashle," he said, with a ferocity which
petered out in an idiotic grin.

"Thash it! Bash 'em!" cried the woman.

Halbut advanced in a circular movement on Sir Tancred, with his fists
up; "Englishmansh oush ish ish cashle," he said firmly.

Sir Tancred lunged smartly at his chest with his cane; and he tumbled
down with his face to the wall.

"Englishmansh oush ish ish cashle," he said drowsily to the wainscot,
and was still.

Sir Tancred took the woman gingerly by the shoulder, and gave her a
shake. "Where's the child?" he said.

Apparently he had shaken the fumes up and the intelligence down, for
her only answer was a burst of sibilant incoherence.

With an exclamation of impatient disgust he loosed her, and went into
the back room. It was empty. He went up the rickety stairs, and, as
he had expected, found the door of the bedroom locked. He kicked it
open and went into the frowsy room. The child was not in it. He came
downstairs and opened the back door. As he did so, he heard a
scuttling rustle. The garden was empty, but the rustle he had heard
set him exploring the dirty, rag-covered hedge with keen eyes. He saw
nothing, and walked down the garden, stooping and peering into the
bottom of the hedge. Half-way down it his eyes fell on two little
black feet, just sticking out; and above them two frightened eyes
stared through the twigs.

Sir Tancred put his hands in among them gently, and drew out a tiny
child; his peaked little face was black, his thin little arms and legs
were black, he was clothed in filthy rags; and his yellowish hair was a
tangled mat. The child struggled like a very feeble little wild beast,
clawing and scratching, but silent with a terrible silence which show