s,"
was dancing wildly around a dilapidated hat which stood upon the
pavement at his feet, and was throwing sovereigns into this same hat
from an apparently inexhaustible store in his coat pocket!

Seeing Sheard standing watching him, he changed his tune and burst into
an extempore lyric, "_The quids! The quids! The golden quids--the
quids!_" and so on, until, filled with a sudden hot suspicion, he
snatched up his hat, with its jingling contents, hugged it to his
breast, and ran like the wind!

Following him with his eyes as he made off towards Waterloo Bridge, the
bewildered pressman all but came to the conclusion that he was the
victim of a weird hallucination.

For the night was filled with the songs, the shouts, the curses, the
screams, of a ragged army of wretches who threw up gold in the air--who
juggled with gold--who played pitch-and-toss with gold--who ran with
great handfuls of gold clutched to their bosoms--who pursued one another
for gold--who fought to defend the gold they had gained--who wept for
the gold they had lost.

One poor old woman knelt at the kerb, counting bright sovereigns into
neat little piles, and perfectly indifferent to the advice of a kindly
policeman, who, though evidently half dazed with the wonders of the
night, urged her to get along to a safer place.

Two dilapidated tramps, one of whom wore a battered straw hat, whilst
his friend held an ancient green parasol over his bare head, appeared
arm-in-arm, displaying much elegance of deportment, and, hailing a
passing cab, gave the address, "Savoy," with great aplomb.

Fights were plentiful, and the available police were kept busy arresting
the combatants. Two officers passed Sheard, escorting a lean, ragged
individual whose pockets jingled as he walked, and who spoke of the
displeasure with which this unseemly arrest would fill "his people."

Presently a bewildered Salvation Army official appeared. Sheard promptly
buttonholed him.

"Don't ask me, sir!" he said, in response to the obvious question.
"Heaven only knows what it _is_ about! But I can tell you this much: no
less than forty thousand pounds has been given away on the Embankment
to-night! And in gold! Such an incredible example of ill-considered
generosity I've never heard of! More harm has been done to our work
to-night than we can hope to rectify in a twelvemonth!

"Of course, it will do good in a few, a very few, cases. But, on the
whole, it will do, I may say, incal