om Dartmoor he
went to live near his pal, who was then planning the lay that had ended
so disastrously.

He pulled the bell and waited anxiously. A stout, slatternly woman
appeared, and uttered a sharp exclamation at sight of her visitor. She
would have closed the door in his face, but Hawker quickly thrust a leg
inside.

"None o' that," he growled. "Don't you know me, missus?"

"It ain't likely I'd furgit _you_, Noah Hawker! What d'ye want?"

"A lodging, Mrs. Miggs," he replied. "Is my old room to let?" he added
eagerly.

"It's been empty a week, but what's that to you? I won't 'ave no
jail-bird in my 'ouse. I'm a respectable woman, an' I won't be disgraced
again by the likes of you."

"Come, stow that! Can't you see I'm a foreign gent from abroad? The
police ain't after me--take my word for it. I've come back here because
you always made me snug and comfortable. I'll have the room, and if you
want to see the color of my money--"

He produced a half-sovereign, and a relenting effect was immediately
visible. A brief parley ensued, which ended in Mrs. Miggs pocketing the
money and inviting Mr. Hawker to enter. A moment after the door had
closed a rather shabby man strolled by the house and made a mental note
of the number.

Presently a light gleamed from the window of the first floor back, which
overlooked, at a distance of six feet, a high, blank wall. Noah Hawker
put the candle on a shelf, locked the door noiselessly, and glanced
about the well-remembered room, with its dirty paper, frayed carpet and
scanty furniture. A little later, after listening to make sure that he
was not being spied upon, he blew out the candle and opened the window.
He fumbled for a minute, then closed the window and drew down the blind.
When he relighted the candle he held in one hand a packet wrapped in a
piece of mildewed leather.

Seating himself in a rickety chair he lighted his pipe and opened the
packet, which contained several papers in a good state of preservation.
He read them carefully and thoughtfully, and the task occupied him for
half an hour or more.

"Whew! It's a heap better than I counted on--I didn't have the time to
examine them right before," he muttered. "There may be a tidy little
fortune in it. I'll make something out of this, or my name ain't Noah
Hawker. The old chap is out of the running, to start with, so I must
hunt up the others. And that won't be easy, perhaps."

CHAPTER XVIII.

HOME AGAIN.