ld Latham's to-morrow, and that
long arrears of work are on his conscience! Never heard him talk of
conscience before: that looks guilty! And it does not frighten him any
longer when I say he shall go to prison for his debts; and he's very
anxious to get me out of Lunnon; and when I threw in a word about Mr.
Losely (slyly, my good lady,--just to see its effect), he grew as white
as that paper; and then he began strutting and swelling, and saying that
Mr. Losely would be a great man, and he should be a great man, and that
he did not care for my money; he could get as much money as he liked.
That looks guilty, my dear lady. And oh," cried Uncle Sam, clasping his
hands, "I do fear that he's thinking of something worse than he has ever
done before, and his brain can't stand it. And, ma'am, he has a great
respect for you; and you've a friendship for Mr. Losely. Now, just
suppose that Mr. Losely should have been thinking of what your flash
sporting gents call a harmless spree, and my sister's son should, being
cracky, construe into something criminal. Oh, Mrs. Crane, do go and see
Mr. Losely, and tell him that Samuel Dolly is not safe,--is not safe!"

"Much better that I should go to your nephew," said Mrs. Crane; "and
with your leave I will do so at once. Let me see him alone. Where shall
I find you afterwards?"

"At the Gloucester Coffee-house. Oh, my dear lady, how can I thank
you enough? The boy can be nothing to you; but to me, he's my sister's
son,--the blackguard!"

CHAPTER XVII.

"Dices laborantes in uno
Penelopen vitreamque Circen."--HORAT.

Mrs. Crane found Poole in his little sitting-room, hung round with
prints of opera-dancers, prize-fighters, race-horses, and the dog Billy.
Samuel Dolly was in full dress. His cheeks, usually so pale, seemed much
flushed. He was evidently in a state of high excitement, bowed extremely
low to Mrs. Crane, called her Countess, asked if she had been lately on
the Continent and if she knew Madame Caumartin, and whether the nobility
at St. Petersburg were jolly, or stuck-up fellows, who gave themselves
airs,--not waiting for her answer. In fact his mind was unquestionably
disordered.

Arabella Crane abruptly laid her hand on his shoulder. "You are going to
the gallows," she said suddenly. "Down on your knees, and tell me all,
and I will keep your secret, and save you; lie, and you are lost!"

Poole burst into tears, and dropped on his knees as he was t