evised one, suggesting that any
applicant might be told to say what name was wrote on the collar.

"But there now, Micky," said the old charwoman. "He hasn't _got_ no
collar!"

"Werry good, then," said her nephew. "When he tells you what's wrote on
the collar, you'll know he's a liar, and don't you give him up the dog."

"But shan't I be a story," said Mrs. Treadwell, "for to tell him the
collar's wrote upon, when it's no such a thing?"

"Not you, Arnty! Don't you say anything's wrote. Just you ask him what,
and cotch him out!"

The puppy wanted to help, and nearly blotted the composition. But this
was avoided, and Micky went out into the fog bearing the placard, of
which he was rather proud.

A typical sot was the only occupant of the bar, who was so far from
sober that he imagined he was addressing a public meeting. Micky
distinguished that he was referring to his second wife, and had some
fault to find with the chairman. Voices in the little parlour behind the
bar caught the boy's ear, and took his attention off. He was not bound
to stop his ears. If parties hollered, it was their own lookout. Parties
hollered, in this case, and Micky could hear, without listening. He was
not sure, though, when he heard one of the voices, that he would not
have listened, if he had any call to do so. For it was the voice of his
old acquaintance the convict.

"No safety like a thick fog, Juliar! I'll pay her a visit this very
afternoon, so soon as ever you've given me some belly-timber. Sapps
Court'll be as black as an inch-thick of ink for twelve hours yet. Don't
you let that steak burn!"

Michael heard the steak rescued--the hiss of its cookery intercepted.
Then he heard Miss Julia say with alarm in her voice:--"You're never
going there, Wix! Not to Sapps Court?"

"And why the Hell shouldn't I go to Sapps Court? One place is as safe as
another, a day like this." Insert if you will an adjective before
"place," here.

Michael, sharp as he was, could not tell why the woman's answer sounded
embarrassed, even through a half-closed door. The story knows. She had
betrayed the knowledge she had acquired from the letter she had tampered
with, that Sapps was being specially watched by the Police. How could
she account for this knowledge, without full confession? And would not
absolution be impossible? She could only fence with the cause of her
confusion. "I got the idea on my mind, I expect," said she uneasily.
"Didn't you say she