deserted street from the court-house he met a man—tall, loosely knit, and dressed in moleskin trousers and a striped shirt—who was lounging in the doorway of a public-house at the corner.
"Looky here," he said, in a hoarse whisper, "you'd better git out o' this."
"Yes," said the swagger, halting; " I was thinking about it."
The other made an impatient movement at this tame reply.
"Because that kind o' thing sticks to a bloomin' cuss as long as he lives—ye-es," he continued, and his heavy brows met in a fierce scowl. "I've bin there, an' I know. Now you git into shelter before night. See."
With that he flung a five-shilling piece into the road, and awkwardly retreated into the house.
The swagger picked it up with more alacrity than he commonly showed. But the acutest observation would have failed to discover in him the smallest sign of gratitude. Either he had lost the power to distinguish properly between kindness or unkindness, or he had got into the habit of meeting both with the same apathy of mien. Possibly, also, he was conscious that, under like circumstances, he would have done the same.
From habit he walked on without looking back, or he would have seen that he was followed by a man—a swagger like himself, but of evil countenance and rough appearance. As long as they were in the township, it was not noticeable, but, the further they left it behind, the more striking it became. The Shadow, however, instead of keeping to the road, hugged the hedges of the farms and the ti-tree of the open.
Instinctively the other proceeded in a direction opposite to that by which he had entered the town a month before. Lonely under the summer sun, it was desolate beyond description at this hour of the evening, and almost impassable, owing to the heavy
