CHAPTER I

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DOROTHY'S DOUBLE

BY G. A. HENTY

AUTHOR OF 'RUJUB THE JUGGLER' 'IN THE DAYS OF THE MUTINY' 'THE CURSE OF

CARNE'S HOLD' ETC.

IN THREE VOLUMES--VOL. I.

London

CHATTO & WINDUS PICCADILLY

1894

PRINTED BY

SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE

LONDON

DOROTHY'S DOUBLE

PROLOGUE

A dark night on the banks of the Thames; the south-west wind, heavily

charged with sleet, was blowing strongly, causing little waves to lap

against the side of a punt moored by the bank. Its head-rope was tied

round a weeping willow which had shed most of its leaves, and whose

pendent boughs swayed and waved in the gusts, sending at times a shower

of heavy drops upon a man leaning against its trunk. Beyond stretched a

broad lawn with clumps of shrubs, and behind loomed the shadow of a

mansion, but so faintly that it might have passed unnoticed in the

darkness had it not been for some lights in the upper windows.

At times the man changed his position, muttering impatiently as the

water made its way down between his collar and neck and soaked through

his clothes to the shoulders.

'I must have been waiting an hour!' he exclaimed at last. 'If she

doesn't come soon I shall begin to think that something has prevented

her getting out. It will be no joke to have to come again to-morrow

night if it keeps on like this. It has been raining for the last three

days without a stop, and looks as if it would keep on as much longer.'

A few minutes later he started as he made out a figure in the darkness.

It approached him, and stopped ten yards away.

'Are you there?' a female voice asked.

'Of course I am,' he replied, 'and a nice place it is to be waiting in

for over an hour on such a night as this. Have you got it?'

'Yes.'

'That is all right. Well, chuck your bonnet down there, three or four

feet from the edge of the water.'

'And my cloak? I have brought that and a shawl, as you told me.'

'No; give it to me. Now get into the boat, and we will shove off.'

As soon as the woman had seated herself in the punt the man unfastened

the head-rope and stepped in; then, taking a long pole in his hand, he

let the boat drift down with the strong stream, keeping close to the

bank. Where the lawn ended there was a clump of bushes overhanging the

water. He caught hold of these, broke off two branches that dipped into

the stream, then, hauling the punt a little farther in, he took the

cloak the woman had handed to him and hitched it fast round a stump that

projected an inch or two above the swollen stream.

'That will do the trick,' he said. 'They will find it there when the

river falls.' Then he poled the boat out and let her drift again. 'You

have brought another bonnet, I see, Polly.'

'You don't suppose I was going to be such a fool as to leave myself

bareheaded on such a night as this,' she said sullenly.

'Well, there is no occasion to be bad-tempered; it has been a deal worse

for me than it has for you, waiting an hour and a half there, besides

being a good half-hour poling this tub up against the stream. I suppose

it went off all right?'

'Yes, there was no difficulty about it. I kicked up a row and pretended

to be drunk. Not too bad, or they would have turned me straight out of

the house, but I was told I was to go the first thing in the morning.

The rest was easy enough. I had only to slip down, get it, and be off,

but I had to wait some time at the door. I opened it about an inch or

two, and had to stand there listening until I was sure they were both

asleep. I am sorry I ever did it. I had half a mind to chuck it up three

or four times, but----'

'But you thought better of it, Polly. Well, you were perfectly right;

fifty pounds down and a pound a week regular, that ain't so bad you

know, especially as you were out of a place, and had no character to

show.'

'But mind,' she said threateningly, 'no harm is to come to it. I don't

know what your game is, but you promised me that, and if you break your

word I will peach, as true as my name is Polly Green. I don't care what

they do to me, but I will split on you and tell the whole business.'

'Don't you alarm yourself about nothing,' he said, good-temperedly. 'I

know what my game is, and that is enough for you. Why, if I wanted to

get rid of it and you too I have only to drive my heel through the side

of this rotten old craft. I could swim to shore easily enough, but when

they got the drags out to-morrow they would bring something up in them.

Here is the end of the island.'

A few pushes with the pole, and the punt glided in among several other

craft lying at the strand opposite Isleworth Church. The man helped the

woman with her burden ashore, and knotted the head-rope to that of the

boat next to it.

'That is how it was tied when I borrowed it,' he said; 'her owner will

never dream that she has been out to-night.'

'What next?' the woman asked.

'We have got to walk to Brentford. I have got a light trap waiting for

me there. It is a little crib I use sometimes, and they gave me the key

of the stable-door, so I can get the horse out and put him in the trap

myself. I said I was starting early in the morning, and they won't know

whether it is at two or five that I go out. I brought down a couple of

rugs, so you will be able to keep pretty dry, and I have got a

driving-coat for myself. We shall be down at Greenwich at that little

crib you have taken by six o'clock. You have got the key, I suppose?'

'Yes. The fire is laid, and we can have a cup of tea before you drive

back. Then I shall turn in for a good long sleep.'

An hour later they were driving rapidly towards London.

CHAPTER I

A slatternly woman was standing at the entrance of a narrow court in one

of the worst parts of Chelsea. She was talking to a neighbour belonging

to the next court, who had paused for a moment for a gossip in her

passage towards a public-house.

'Your Sal is certainly an owdacious one,' she said. 'I saw her yesterday

evening when you were out looking for her. I told her she would get it

hot if she didn't get back home as soon as she could, and she jest

laughed in my face and said I had best mind my own business. I told her

I would slap her face if she cheeked me, and she said, "I ain't your

husband, Mrs. Bell, and if you were to try it on you would find that I

could slap quite as hard as you can."'

'She is getting quite beyond me, Mrs. Bell. I don't know what to do with

her. I have thrashed her as long as I could stand over her, but what is

the good? The first time the door is open she just takes her hook and I

don't see her again for days. I believe she sleeps in the Park, and I

suppose she either begs or steals to keep herself. At the end of a week

maybe she will come in again, just the same as if she had only been out

for an hour. "How have you been getting on since I have been away?" she

will say. "No one to scrub your floor; no one to help you when you are

too drunk to find your bed," and then she laughs fit to make yer blood

run cold. Owdacious ain't no name for that wench, Mrs. Bell. Why, there

ain't a boy in this court of her own size as ain't afraid of her. She is

a regular tiger-cat, she is; and if they says anything to her, she just

goes for them tooth and nail. I shan't be able to put up with her ways

much longer. Well, yes; I don't mind if I do take a two of gin with

you.'

They had been gone but a minute or two when a man turned in at the

court. He looked about forty, was clean shaven, and wore a rough

great-coat, a scarlet and blue tie with a horseshoe pin, and tightly cut

trousers, which, with the tie and pin, gave him a somewhat horsey

appearance. More than one of the inhabitants of the court glanced

sharply at him as he came in, wondering what business he could have

there. He asked no questions, but went in at an open door, picked his

way up the rickety stairs to the top of the house, and knocked at a

door. There was no reply. He knocked again louder and more impatiently;

then, with a muttered oath, descended the stairs.

'Who are you wanting?' a woman asked, as he paused at a lower door.

'I am looking for Mrs. Phillips; she is not in her room.'

'I just saw her turn off with Mother Bell. I expect you will find them

at the bar of the Lion, lower down the street.'

With a word of thanks he went down the court, waited two or three

minutes near the entrance, and then walked in the direction of the

public-house. He had gone but a short distance, however, when he saw the

two women come out. They stood gossiping for three or four minutes, and

then the woman he was in search of came towards him, while the other

went on down the street.

'Hello, Mr. Warbles!' Mrs. Phillips exclaimed when she came near to him;

'who would have thought of seeing you? Why, it is a year or more since

you were here last, though I must say as your money comes every month

regular; not as it goes far, I can tell you, for that girl is enough to

eat one out of 'arth and 'ome.'

'Well, never mind that now,' he said impatiently, 'that will keep till

we get upstairs. I have been up there and found that you were out. I

want to have a talk with you. Where is the girl?'

'Ah, where indeed, Mr. Warbles; there is never no telling where Sal is;

maybe she is in the next court, maybe she is the other side of town. She

is allus on the move. I have locked up her boots sometimes, but it is no

odds to Sal. She would just as lief go barefoot as not.'

By this time they arrived at the door of the room, and after some

fumbling in her pocket the woman produced the key and they went in. It

was a poverty-stricken room; a rickety table and two chairs, a small bed

in one corner and some straw with a ragged rug thrown over it in

another, a kettle and a frying-pan, formed its whole furniture. Mr.

Warbles looked round with an air of disgust.

'You ought to be able to do better than this, Kitty,' he said.

'I s'pose as I ought,' she said philosophically, 'but you know me,

Warbles; it's the drink as does it.'

'The drink has done it in your case, surely enough,' he said, as he saw

in his mind's eye a trim figure behind the bar of a country

public-house, and looked at the coarse, bloated, untidy creature before

him.'

'Well, it ain't no use grunting over it,' she said. 'I could have

married well enough in the old days, if it hadn't been that I was always

losing my places from it, and so it has gone on, and I would not change

now if I could. A temperance chap come down the court a week or two ago,

a-preaching, and after a-going on for some time his eye falls on me, and

says he to me, "My good woman, does the demon of drink possess you

also?" And says I, "He possesses me just as long as I have got money in

my pocket." "Then," says he, "why don't you take the pledge and turn

from it all?" "'Cause," says I, "it is just the one pleasure I have in

life; what should I do I should like to know without it? I could dress

more flash, and I could get more sticks of furniture in my room, which

is all very well to one as holds to such things, but what should I care

for them?" "You would come to be a decent member of society," says he. I

tucks up my sleeves. "I ain't going to stand no 'pertinence from you,

nor from no one," says I, and I makes for him, and he picks up his bag

of tracts, and runs down the court like a little dog with a big dog

arter him. I don't think he is likely to try this court again.'

'No, I suppose you are not going to change now, Kitty. I have come here

to see the girl,' he went on, changing the subject abruptly.

'Well, you will see her if she comes in, and you won't if she don't

happen to, that is all I can say about it. What are you going to do

about her? It is about time as you did something. I have done what I

agreed to do when you brought her to me when she was three years old.

Says you, "The woman who has been taking charge of this child is dead,

and I want you to take her." Says I, "You know well enough, Warbles, as

I ain't fit to take care of no child. I am just going down as fast as I

can, and it won't be long before I shall have to choose between the

House and the river." "I can see that well enough," says you, "but I

don't care how she is brought up so as she lives. She can run about

barefoot through the streets and beg for coppers, for aught I care, but

I want her to live for reasons of my own. I will pay you five shillings

a week for her regular, and if you spend, as I suppose you will, one

shilling on her food and four shillings on drink for yourself, it ain't

no business of mine. I could have put her for the same money in some

country cottage where she would have been well looked after, but I want

her to grow up in the slums, just a ragged girl like the rest of them,

and if you won't take her there is plenty as will on those terms." So I

says, "Yes," and I have done it, and there ain't a raggeder or more

owdacious gal in all the town, East or West.'

'That is all right, Kitty; but I saw someone yesterday, and it has

altered my plans--but I must have a look at her first. I saw her when I

called a year ago; I suppose she has not changed since then?'

'She is a bit taller, and, I should say, thinner, which comes of

restlessness, and not for want of food. But she ain't changed otherwise,

except as she is getting too much for me, and I have been wishing for

some time to see you. I ain't no ways a good woman, Warbles, but the gal

is fifteen now, and a gal of fifteen is nigh a woman in these courts,

and I have made up my mind as I won't have her go wrong while she is on

my hands, and if I had not seen you soon I should just have taken her by

the shoulder and gone off to the workhouse with her.'

'They would not have taken her in without you,' the man said with a hard

laugh.

'I would have gone in, too, for the sake of getting her in. I know I

could not have stood it for many days, but I would have done it.

However, the first time I got leave to come out I would have taken my

hook altogether and got a room at the other end of the town, and left

her there with them. I could not have done better for her than that, but

that would have been a sight better than her stopping here, and if she

went wrong after that I should not have had it on my conscience.'

'Well, that is all right, Kitty; I agree with you this is not the best

place in the world for her, and I think it likely that I may take her

away altogether.'

'I am glad to hear it. I have never been able to make out what your game

was. One thing I was certain of--that it was no good. I know a good many

games that you have had a hand in, and there was not a good one among

them, and I don't suppose this differs from the rest. Anyhow, I shall be

glad to be shot of her. I don't want to lose the five bob a week, but I

would rather shift without it than have her any longer now she is

a-growing up.'

The man muttered something between his teeth, but at the moment a step

was heard coming up the stairs.

'That's Sal,' the woman said; 'you are in luck this time, Warbles.'

The door opened, and a girl came in. She was thin and gaunt, her eyes

were large, her hair was rough and unkempt, there were smears of dirt on

her face and an expression of mingled distrust and defiance.

'Who have you got here?' she asked, scowling at Mr. Warbles.

'It is the gent as you saw a year ago, Sally; the man as I told you had

put you with me and paid regular towards your keep.'

'What does he want?' the girl asked, but without removing her glance

from the man.

'He wants to have a talk with you, Sally. I do not know exactly what he

wants to say, but it is for your good.'

'I dunno that,' she replied; 'he don't look like as if he was one to do

anyone a good turn without getting something out of it.'

Mr. Warbles shifted about uneasily in his chair.

'Don't you mind her, Mr. Warbles,' the woman said; 'she is a limb, she

is, and no mistake, but she has got plenty of sense. But you had best

talk to her straight if you want her to do anything; then if she says

she will, she will; if she says she won't, you may take your oath you

won't drive her. Now, Sal, be reasonable, and hear what the gentleman

has to say.'

'Well, why don't he go on, then?' the girl retorted; 'who is a-stopping

him?'

Mr. Warbles had come down impressed with the idea that the proposition

he had to make would be received with enthusiasm, but he now felt some

doubt on the subject. He wondered for a moment whether it would be best

to speak as Mrs. Phillips advised him or to stick to the story he had

intended to tell. He concluded that the former way was the best.

'I am going to speak perfectly straight to you, Sally,' he began.

The girl looked keenly at him beneath her long eyelashes, and her face

expressed considerable doubt.

'I am in the betting line,' he said; 'horse-racing, you know; and I am

mixed up in other things, and there is many a job I might be able to

carry out if I had a sharp girl to help me. I can see you are sharp

enough--there is no fear about that--but you see sharpness is not the

only thing. A girl to be of use must be able to dress herself up and

pass as a lady, and to do that she must have some sort of education so

as to be able to speak as ladies speak. I ought to have begun earlier

with you, I know, but it was only when thinking of you a day or two ago

that it struck me you would do for the work. You will have to go to

school, or at least to be under the care of someone who can teach you,

for three years. I don't suppose you like the thought of it, but you

will have a good time afterwards. You will be well dressed and live

comfortably, and all you will have to do will be to play a part

occasionally, which to a clever girl will be nothing.'

'I should learn to read and write and to be able to understand books and

such like?'

'Certainly you would.'

'Then I am ready,' she said firmly; 'I don't care what you do with me

afterwards. What I want most of anything in the world is to be able to

read and write. You can do nothing if you can't do that. I do not

suppose I shall like schooling, but it cannot be so bad as tramping

about the streets like this,' and she pointed to her clothes and

dilapidated boots, 'so if you mean what you say I am ready.'

The thought that she was intended to bear a part in dishonest courses

afterwards did not for a moment trouble her. Half of the inhabitants of

the court were ready to steal anything worth selling if an opportunity

offered. She herself had often done so. She had no moral sense of right

or wrong whatever, and regarded theft as simply an exercise of skill and

quickness, and as an incident in the war between herself and society as

represented by the police. As to counterfeit coin, she had passed it

again and again, for a man came up once a fortnight or so with a roll of

coin for which Mrs. Phillips paid him about a fourth of its face value.

These she never attempted to pass in Chelsea, but tramped far away to

the North, South or East, carrying with her a jug hidden under her

tattered shawl, and going into public houses for a pint of beer for

father.

This she considered far more hazardous work than pilfering, and her

quickness of eye and foot had alone saved her many times, as if the

barman, instead of dropping the coin into the till, looked at it with

suspicion and then proceeded to test it she was off like a deer, and was

out of sight round the next turning long before the man could get to the

door. The fact that she was evidently considered sharp enough to take

part in frauds requiring cleverness and address gratified rather than

inclined her to reject the proposition.

'It ain't very grateful of you, Sally, to be so willing to leave me

after all I have done for you,' Mrs. Phillips said, rather hurt at her

ready acceptance of the offer.

'Grateful for what?' the girl said scornfully, turning fiercely upon

her; 'you have been paid for feeding me and what have you done more?

Haven't I prigged for you, and run the risk of being sent to quod for

getting rid of your dumps? Haven't you thrashed me pretty nigh every

time you was drunk, till I got so big you daren't do it? I don't say as

sometimes you haven't been kind, just in a way, but you have been a

sight oftener unkind. I don't want to part bad friends. If you ain't

showed me much kindness, you have shown me all as ever I have known, and

yer might have been worse than you have. I suppose yer knows this man,

and know that he is going to do as he says, and means to treat me fair,

for mind you,' and here she turned darkly to Warbles, 'if you tries to

do anything as is wrong with me I will stick a knife into you.'

'I am going to do you no harm, Sally,' he said hastily.

'Yer had better not,' she muttered.

'I mean exactly what I say, and nothing more. Mrs. Phillips may not have

been quite as kind to you as she might, but she would not let you go

with me if she did not know that no harm will be done with you.'

'Very well, then, I am ready,' the girl said, preparing to put on the

tattered bonnet she had taken off when she came in, and had held

swinging by its strings.

'No, no,' Mr. Warbles said, in dismay at the thought of walking out with

this ragged figure by his side, 'we can't manage it as quickly as all

that. In the first place, there are decent clothes to be bought for you.

You cannot go anywhere as you are now. I will give Mrs. Phillips money

for that.'

'Give it me,' the girl said, holding out her hand; 'she can't be trusted

with it; she would be drunk in half an hour after you had gone, and

would not get sober till it was all spent. You give it me, and let me

buy the things; I will hand it over to her to pay for them.'

'That would be best,' Mrs. Phillips said, with a hard laugh; 'she is

right, Warbles. I ain't to be trusted with money, and it is no use

pretending I am. Sally knows what she is about. When she has got money

she always hides it, and just brings it out as it is wanted; we have had

many a fight about it, but she is just as obstinate as a mule, and next

morning I am always ready to allow as she was right.'

'How much will you want, Kitty?'

'Well, I should say that to get three decent frocks and a fair stock of

underclothes and boots would run nigh up to ten pounds. If it ain't so

much she can give you back what there is of it. When will you come and

fetch her?'

'We had better say three days. You can get all the things in a day, no

doubt; but I shall have to make arrangements. I think I know just the

woman that would do. She was a governess once in good families, I am

told; but she went wrong, somehow, and went down pretty near to the

bottom of the hill; she lives a few doors from me, and gets a few

children to teach when she can. I expect I can arrange with her to take

Sally, and teach her. If she won't do it, someone else will; but being

close it would be handy to me. I could drop in sometimes of an evening

and see how she was getting on.'

'Are you my father?' the girl asked suddenly.

'No, I am not,' he answered readily.

The girl was looking at him keenly, and was satisfied that he spoke the

truth.

'I am glad of that,' she said. 'I always thought that if I had a father

I should like to love him. If you had been my father I expect as you

would have wanted me to love you, and I am sure I should never be able

to do it.'

'You are an outspoken girl, Sally,' Mr. Warbles said, with an unpleasant

attempt at a laugh. 'Why shouldn't you be able to love me?'

'Because I should never be able to trust you,' the girl said. 'I am

ready to work for you and to be honest with you as long as you are

honest with me. I s'pose you wouldn't be paying all this money and be

going to take such pains with me if you didn't think as you would get it

back again. I don't know much, but I know as much as that; so mind, I

don't promise to love you, that ain't in the agreement.'

'Perhaps you will think differently some day, Sally; and, after all, two

people can get on well enough together without much love. Well, have her

ready in three days, Kitty; but there is no use in my coming here for

her. Of course, the girl must have a box, and you will want a cab. Drive

across Westminster Bridge and stop just across it on the right-hand

side. Be there as near as you can at eight o'clock in the evening; that

will suit me, and it ought to suit you. It is just as well you should

get her out of the court after dark, so that she won't be recognised in

her new things, and you will get off without being questioned. I shall

be there waiting for you, but if anything should detain me, which is not

likely, wait till I come.'

When he had gone the girl flung her bonnet into a corner, then knelt

down and made up the fire; then she produced two mutton chops from her

pocket and placed them in the frying-pan over it.

'Good ones,' she said. 'I got them at a swell shop near Buckingham

Palace; they were outside, just handy. Well, I s'pose them's the last I

shall nick; that is a good job.' She then took a jug out of the

cupboard. 'I have got sixpence left out of that half-crown I changed

yesterday. We have got bread enough, so I will bring in a quart.'

The woman nodded. She had of late, as she had told Warbles, quite

determined she would not keep the girl much longer with her, but the

suddenness with which the change had come about had been so unexpected

that as yet she hardly realised it. Sally was a limb, no doubt. She had

got quite beyond her control, and although the petty thievings had been

at first encouraged by her, the aptness of her pupil, the coolness and

audacity with which she carried them out, and the perfect unconcern with

which she started on the dangerous operation of changing the counterfeit

money, had troubled and almost frightened her. As the girl had said, she

had never been kind to her, had often brutally beaten her, and usually

spoke of her as if she were the plague of her life, but the thought that

she would now be without her altogether touched her keenly, and when the

girl returned she found her in tears.

'Hello! what's up?' she asked in surprise. 'You ain't been a drinking as

early as this, have you?' for tears were to Sally's mind associated with

a particular phase of drunkenness.

The woman shook her head.

'Yer don't mean to say as you are crying because I am going?' Sally went

on in a changed voice. 'I should have thought there was nothing in the

world you would be so pleased at as getting rid of me.'

'I have said so in a passion, may be, Sally. You are a limb, there ain't

no doubt of that; but it ain't your fault, and I might have done for you

more than I have, if it had not been for drink. I don't know what I

shall do without you.'

'It will make a difference in the way of food, though,' the girl said;

'I am a onener to eat: still I don't think you can get rid of the dumps

as well as I can. You got two months last time you tried it.'

'It ain't that, Sally, though I dare say you think it is, but I shall

feel lonesome, awful lonesome, without you to sit of an evening to talk

to. You have been like a child to me, though I ain't been much of a

mother to you, and you mayn't believe it, Sally, but it is gospel truth,

as I have been fond of you.'

'Have you now?' the girl said, leaning forward eagerly in her chair. 'I

allus thought you hated me. Why didn't you say so? I wouldn't have

'greed to go with that man if I had thought as you wanted me. I don't

care for the dresses and that sort of thing, though I should like to get

taught something, but I would give that up, and if you like I will go by

myself and meet him where he said, and give him back that ten pound, and

say I have changed my mind and I am going to stop with you.'

'No, it is better that you should go, Sally; this ain't no place for a

girl, and I ain't no woman to look after one. I have been a-thinking

some months it was time you went; it didn't matter so much as long as

you was a kid, but you are growing up now, and it ain't to be expected

as you would keep straight in such a place as this; besides, any day you

might get nabbed, and three months in quod would finish you altogether.

So you see, Sally, I am glad and I am sorry. Warbles ain't the man I

would put you in charge of if I had my way. He has told you hisself what

he means to do with you, and I would a lot rather you had been going out

into service; only of course no one would take you as you are, it ain't

likely. Still if you keep your eyes open, and you are a sharp girl, you

may make money by it; but mind me, Sally, money is no good by itself,

nor fine clothes, nor nothing.

'It was fine clothes and drink as brought me to what I am. I was a nice

tidy-looking girl when Warbles first knew me, and if it hadn't been for

clothes and drink I might have been a respectable woman, and perhaps

missus of a snug public now. Well, perhaps your chances will be as good

as mine was. I have two bits of advice to give yer. When you have

finished that pint of beer you make up your mind never to touch another

drop of it. The second is, don't you listen to what young swells say to

yer. You look out for an honest man who wants to make you his wife, and

you marry him and make him a good wife, Sally.'

The girl nodded. 'That is what I mean to do, and when I get a

comfortable home you shall come and live with us.'

'It wouldn't do, Sally; by that time I reckon I shall be lying in a

graveyard, but if I wasn't it would not do nohow. No man will put up

with a drunken woman in his house, and a drunken woman I shall be to the

end of my life--but there, them chops are ready, Sally, and it would be

a sin to let them spoil now you have got them.'

When the meal was over, and Sally had finished her glass of beer, she

turned it over.

'That is the last of them,' she said; 'I don't care for it one way or

the other. Now tell me about that cove, who is he?'

'He is what he says--a betting man, and was when I first knew him; I

don't know what his real name is, but I don't expect it's Warbles. He

was a swell among them when I first knew him, and spent his money free,

and used to look like a gentleman. I was in a house at Newmarket at the

time, and whenever the races was on I often used to see him. Well, I

left there, and did not come across him for two years; when I did, I had

just come out of gaol; I had had two months for taking money from the

till. I met him in the street, and he says to me, "Hello, Kitty! I was

sorry to hear that you had been in trouble; what are you doing?"'

'What should I be doing?' says I; 'there ain't much chance of my getting

another situation after what has happened. I ain't a-doing nothing yet,

for I met a friend on the day I came out who gave me a couple of quid,

but it is pretty nigh gone.' 'Well, look here,' says he, 'I have got a

kid upon my hands: it don't matter whose kid it is, it ain't mine; but I

have got to keep it. It has been with a woman for the last three years,

and she has died. I don't care how it is brought up so as it is brought

up; it is nothing to me how she turns out so that she lives. I tell you

what I will do. I will give you ten pounds to furnish a room and get

into it, and I will pay you five shillings a week as long as it lives;

and if you ever get hard up and want a couple of pounds you can have

'em, so as you don't come too often.'

'Well, I jumped at the offer, and took you, and I will say Warbles has

been as good as his word. It wasn't long before I was turned out of my

lodging for being too drunk and noisy for the house, and it wasn't more

than a couple of years before I got pretty nigh as low as this. I had

got to know a good many queer ones when I was in the public line, and I

chanced to drop across one of them, and when I met him one day he told

me he could put me into an easy way of earning money if I liked, but it

was risky. I said I did not care for that, and since then I have always

been on that lay. For a bit I did very well; I used to dress up as a

tidy servant, and go shopping, and many a week I would get rid of three

or four pounds' worth of the stuff; but in course, as I grew older and

lost my figure and the drink told on me, it got more difficult. People

looked at the money more sharply, and I got three months for it twice. I

was allus careful, and never took more than one piece out with me at a

time, so that I got off several times till they began to know me. You

remember the last time I was in--I told you about it, and since then you

have been doing it.'

'But what will you do when I am gone?'

'Well, you know, Sally, I gets a bit from men who comes round of an

evening and gives me things to hide away under that board. They knows as

they can trust me, and I have had five thousand pounds worth of diamonds

and things hidden away there for weeks. No one would ever think of

searching there for it. I ain't known to be mixed up with thieves, and

this court ain't the sort of place that coppers would ever dream of

searching for jewels. Sometimes nothing comes for weeks, sometimes there

is a big haul; but they pay me something a week regular, and I gets a

present after a good thing has been brought off, so you needn't worrit

about me. I shan't be as well off as I have been, but there will be

plenty to keep me going, and if I have to drink a bit less it won't do

me any harm.'

'I wonder you ain't afraid to drink,' Sally said, 'lest you should let

out something.'

'I am lucky that way, Sally. Drink acts some ways with some people, and

some ways with others. It makes some people blab out just the things

they don't want known; it makes some people quarrelsome; it shuts up

some people's mouths altogether. That is the way with me. I take what I

take quiet, and though the coppers round here see me drunk pretty often

they can't never say as I am drunk and disorderly, so they just lets me

find my way home as I can.'

'And this man has never said no more about me than he did that first

time?' Sally asked. 'Why should he go on paying for me all this time?'

'He ain't never said a word. I've wondered over it scores of times.

These betting chaps are free with their money when they win, but that

ain't like going on paying year after year. I thought sometimes you

might be the daughter of some old pal of his, and that he had promised

him to take care of you. I thought that afterwards he had been sorry he

had done so, but would not go back from his word and so went on paying,

though he did not care a morsel whether you turned out well or bad. Now

I am going out, Sally.'

'You don't want to go out no more to-day,' Sally said decidedly. 'You

just stop in quietly these last three days with me.'

'I would like to,' the woman said, 'but I don't think it is in me. You

do not know what it is, Sally. When drink is once your master there

ain't no shaking it off. There is something in you as says you must go,

and you can't help it; nothing but tying you down would do it.'

'Well, look here, give me ninepence. I will go out and get you another

quart of beer and a quartern of gin to finish up with. I have never been

out for spirits for you before, though you have beat me many a time

'cause I wouldn't, but for these three days I will go. That won't be

enough to make you bad, and we can sit here and talk together, and when

we have finished it we can turn in comfortable.'

The woman took the money from a corner of a stocking, and gave it to

Sally, and that night went to bed sober for the first time for months.

The next morning shopping began, and Sally, although not easily moved,

was awe-struck at the number and variety of the garments purchased for

her. The dresses were to be made up by the next evening, when she was to

fetch them from the shop herself, as Mrs. Phillips shrunk from giving

her address at Piper Court.

During the interval Sally suffered much from a regular course of washing

and combing her hair. When on the third morning she was arrayed in her

new clothes, with hair neatly done up, she felt so utterly unlike

herself that a sort of shyness seized her. She could only judge as to

her general appearance, but not as to that of her face and head, for the

lodging was unprovided with even a scrap of looking-glass. She had no

doubt that the change was satisfactory, as Mrs. Phillips exclaimed,

'Fine feathers make fine birds, Sally, but I should not have believed

that they could have made such a difference; you look quite a

nice-looking gal, and I should not be surprised if you turn out

downright pretty, though I have always thought you as plain a gal as

ever I seed!'