ority in all societies where force alone gives the law. Thus, under
the gaslight and under the stars, stood the terrible animal,--a strong
man imbruted; "SOUVIENS-TOI DE TA GABRIELLE." There, still uneffaced,
though the gold threads are all tarnished and ragged, are the ominous
words on the silk of the she-devil's love-token! But Jasper has now
inspected the direction on the paper he held to the lamp-light, and,
satisfying himself that he was in the right quarter, restored the paper
to the bulky distended pocket-book and walked sullenly on towards the
court from which had emerged the policeman who had crossed his prowling
chase.

"It is the most infernal shame," said Losely between his grinded teeth,
"that I should be driven to these wretched dens for a lodging, while
that man, who ought to feel bound to maintain me, should be rolling in
wealth, and cottoned up in a palace. But he shall fork out. Sophy must
be hunted up. I will clothe her in rags like these. She shall sit at
his street-door. I will shame the miserly hunks. But how track the girl?
Have I no other hold over him? Can I send Dolly Poole to him? How addled
my brains are!--want of food, want of sleep. Is this the place? Peuh!--"

Thus murmuring, he now reached the arch of the court, and was swallowed
up in its gloom. A few strides and he came into a square open space only
lighted by the skies. A house, larger than the rest, which were of the
meanest order, stood somewhat back, occupying nearly one side of the
quadrangle,--old, dingy, dilapidated. At the door of this house stood
another man, applying his latch-key to the lock. As Losely approached,
the man turned quickly, half in fear, half in menace,--a small, very
thin, impish-looking man, with peculiarly restless features that seemed
trying to run away from his face. Thin as he was, he looked all skin and
no bones, a goblin of a man whom it would not astonish you to hear could
creep through a keyhole, seeming still more shadowy and impalpable by
his slight, thin, sable dress, not of cloth, but a sort of stuff like
alpaca. Nor was that dress ragged, nor, as seen but in starlight, did it
look worn or shabby; still you had but to glance at the creature to feel
that it was a child in the same Family of Night as the ragged felon that
towered by its side. The two outlaws stared at each other. "Cutts!"
said Losely, in the old rollicking voice, but in a hoarser, rougher key,
"Cutts, my boy, here I am; welcome me!