g a quiet eye out for
suspicious appearances. They were of different makes and sizes, but
there seemed an undefined similarity between them.

"This is my push, Mrs Aspinall," said Bill; "at least," he added
apologetically, "it's part of 'em. Here, you chaps, this is Mrs
Aspinall, what I told you about."

They elbowed the wall back, rubbed their heads with their hats, shuffled
round, and seemed to take a vacant sort of interest in abstract objects,
such as the pavement, the gas-lamp, and neighbouring doors and windows.

"Got the things ready?" asked Bill.

"Oh, yes."

"Got 'em downstairs?"

"There's no upstairs. The rooms above belong to the next house."

"And a nice house it is," said Bill, "for rooms to belong to. I wonder,"
he reflected, cocking his eye at the windows above; "I wonder how the
police manage to keep an eye on the next house without keepin' an eye on
yours--but they know."

He turned towards the street end of the alley and gave a low whistle.
Out under the lamp from behind the corner came a long, thin, shambling,
hump-backed youth, with his hat down over his head like an extinguisher,
dragging a small bony horse, which, in its turn, dragged a rickety cart
of the tray variety, such as is used in the dead marine trade. Behind
the cart was tied a mangy retriever. This affair was drawn up opposite
the door.

"The cove with a cart" was introduced as 'Chinny'. He had no chin
whatever, not even a receding chin. It seemed as though his chin had
been cut clean off horizontally. When he took off his hat he showed to
the mild surprise of strangers a pair of shrewd grey eyes and a broad
high forehead. Chinny was in the empty bottle line.

"Now, then, hold up that horse of yours for a minute, Chinny," said Bill
briskly, "'relse he'll fall down and break the shaft again." (It had
already been broken in several places and spliced with strips of deal,
clothes-line, and wire.) "Now, you chaps, fling yourselves about and get
the furniture out."

This was a great relief to the push. They ran against each other and the
door-post in their eagerness to be at work. The furniture--what Mrs A.
called her "few bits of things"--was carried out with elaborate care.
The ironing table was the main item. It was placed top down in the
cart, and the rest of the things went between the legs without bulging
sufficiently to cause Chinny any anxiety.

Just then the picket gave a low, earnest whistle, and they were aware of
a