my face, he seemed in such a fury; but,
fortunately, another customer came in, and
obliged him to put his hands to peaceable
and proper uses.

"Quite a bundle of all-sorts on the opposite
counter there," I said to the woman, as I
paid her for the candles.

"Yes, and all hoarded up for sale by a
poor creature with a lazy brute of a husband,
who lets his wife do all the work while he
spends all the money," answered the woman,
with a malicious look at the man by her
side.

"He can't surely have much money to
spend, if his wife has no better work to do
than picking up rags," said I.

"It isn't her fault if she hasn't got no
better," says the woman, rather angrily.
"She's ready to turn her hand to anything.
Charing, washing, laying-out, keeping empty
houses—nothing comes amiss to her. She's
my half-sister; and I think I ought to
know."

"Did you say she went out charing?" I
asked, making believe as if I knew of somebody
who might employ her.

"Yes, of course I did," answered the
woman; "and if you can put a job into her
hands, you'll be doing a good turn to a poor
hard-working creature as wants it. She lives
down the Mews here to the right—name of
Horlick, and as honest a woman as ever
stood in shoe-leather. Now then, ma'am, what
for you?"

Another customer came in just then, and
occupied her attention. I left the shop,
passed the turning that led down to the
Mews, looked up at the name of the street,
so as to know how to find it again, and then
ran home as fast as I could. Perhaps it was
the remembrance of my strange dream
striking me on a sudden, or perhaps it was
the shock of the discovery I had just made,
but I began to feel frightened without knowing
why, and anxious to be under shelter in
my own room.

If Robert should come back! O, what a
relief and help it would be now if Robert
should come back!

May 1st. On getting in-doors last night,
the first thing I did, after striking a light,
was to take the ragged cravat off the candles
and smooth it out on the table. I then took
the end that had been in poor Mary's hand
out of my writing-desk, and smoothed that
out too. It matched the torn side of the
cravat exactly. I put them together, and
satisfied myself that there was not a doubt
of it.

Not once did I close my eyes that night.
A kind of fever got possession of me—a
vehement yearning to go on from this first
discovery and find out more, no matter what
the risk might be. The cravat now really
became, to my mind, the clue that I thought
I saw in my dream—the clue that I was
resolved to follow. I determined to go to
Mrs. Horlick this evening on my return from
work.

I found the Mews easily. A crook-backed
dwarf of a man was lounging at the corner
of it smoking his pipe. Not liking his looks,
I did not enquire of him where Mrs. Horlick
lived, but went down the Mews till I met
with a woman, and asked her. She directed
me to the right number. I knocked at the
door, and Mrs. Horlick herself—a lean, ill-
tempered, miserable-looking woman—
answered it. I told her at once that I had
come to ask what her terms were for charing.
She stared at me for a moment, then
answered my question civilly enough.

"You look surprised at a stranger like me
finding you out," I said. "I first came to
hear of you last night from a relation of
yours, in rather an odd way." And I told
her all that had happened in the chandler's
shop, bringing in the bundle of rags, and the
circumstance of my carrying home the candles
in the old torn cravat, as often as possible.

"It's the first time I've heard of anything
belonging to him turning out any use," said
Mrs. Horlick, bitterly.

"What, the spoilt old neck-handkerchief
belonged to your husband, did it?" said I at
a venture.

"Yes; I pitched his rotten rag of a neck-
'andkercher into the bundle along with the
rest; and I wish I could have pitched him
in after it," said Mrs. Horlick. "I'd sell him
cheap at any rag-shop. There he stands,
smoking his pipe at the end of the Mews,
out of work for weeks past, the idlest
hump-backed pig in all London!"

She pointed to the man whom I had passed
on entering the Mews. My cheeks began to
burn and my knees to tremble; for I knew
that in tracing the cravat to its owner I was
advancing a step towards a fresh discovery.
I wished Mrs. Horlick good evening, and
said I would write and mention the day on
which I wanted her.

What I had just been told put thought into
my mind that I was afraid to follow out. I
have heard people talk of being light-headed,
and I felt as I have heard them say they
felt, when I retraced my steps up the Mews.
My head got giddy, and my eyes seemed able
to see nothing but the figure of the little
crook-back man still smoking his pipe in
his former place. I could see nothing but
that; I could think of nothing but the mark
of the blow on my poor lost Mary's temple.
I know that I must have been light-headed,
for as I came close to the crook-backed
man, I stopped without meaning it.
The minute before, there had been no idea in
me of speaking to him. I did not know how
to speak, or in what way it would be safest
to begin. And yet, the moment I came face
to face with him something out of myself
seemed to stop me, and to make me speak,
without considering before-hand, without