t upstairs when I see who it was outside. Dave he never see
him, not to look at!"

"He see him out of the top window, and knew him again. What had the
beggar got to say for hisself?" This was the gist of the matter, and
Uncle Mo settled down to hear it.

"He'd been to look after his mother in the country, at the place I told
him--and the more fool me for telling--and he thought he spotted her,
but it was some other old woman, and while he was talking to her, there
to be sure and if he didn't see a police-officer after him!"

"What did he do on that?"

"Oh, he run for it, and was all but took. But he got away to the
railway, and the officer followed him. And when he saw him coming up, he
jumped in the wrong train, that was just starting, and got carried to
Manchester. And he got back to London by the night train."

"And then he come on here, and found I was in the parlour--round at Joe
Jeffcoat's. He thought he see his way to another half-a-sovereign out of
you, M'riar, and that's what he come for. He thought I was safe for just
the du-ration of a pipe or two."

"What brought you back, Mo?"

"Well, ye see, I heard his ugly voice out in the front bar, askin' for
me. And I only thought he was a sporting c'rackter come to see what the
old scrapper looked like in his old age. Then I couldn't think for a
minute or two because of old Billy's clapper going, but when I did, his
face came back to me atop of his voice. More by token when he never
showed up! Ye see?" Aunt M'riar nodded an exact understanding of what
had happened. "And then I take it he come sneaking down here to see for
some cash, if he could get it. He'll come again, old girl, he'll come
again! And Simeon Rowe shall put on a man in plain clothes, to watch for
him when I'm away."

"Oh, Mo, don'tee say that! It was only his make-believe to frighten me.
Anyone could tell that only to see him flourishin' out his knife."

"Hay--what's that?--his knife? You never told me o' that."

"Why, Mo, don't ye see, I only took it for bounce."

"What was it about his knife?"

"Just this, Mo dear! Now, don't you be excited. He says to me
again:--'What are you good for, Polly Daverill?' And then I see he was
handling a big knife with a buckhorn handle." M'riar was tremulous and
tearful. "Oh, Mo!" she said. "Do consider! He wasn't that earnest, to be
took at a chance word. He ain't so bad as you think of him. He was only
showin' off like, to get the most he could."

"