der one of the rare lamp-posts, gathering up his recollections of the Londoi) he had so long quitted, and doubtful for a moment or two which turn to take. Just then, up from an alley front- ing him at right angles, came sullenly, warih', a tall, sinewy, ill- boding tatterdemalion figure, and seeing Darrell's face under the lamp, halted abrupt at the mouth of the narrow passage from which it had emerged—a dark form filling up the dark aperture. Does that ragged wayfarer recognize a foe by the imperfect ray of the lamp-light? or is he a mere vulgar footpad, who is doubting whether he should spring upon a prey? Hostile his look—his gesture—the sudden cowering down of the strong frame, as if for a bound, but still he is irresolute. What awes him? What awes the tiger, who would obey his blood-instinct without fear, in his rush on the Negro—the Hindoo—but who halts and hesi- tates at the sight of the white man—the lordly son of Europe? Darrell's eye was turned toward the dark passage—toward the dark figure—carelessly, neither recognizing, nor fearing, nor de- fying—carelessly, as at any harmless object in crowded streets, and at broad day. But while that eye was on him, the tatterde- malion halted, and, indeed, whatever his hostility, or whatever his daring, the sight of Darrell took him by so sudden a surprise, that he could not at once re-collect his thoughts, and determine how to approach the quiet, unconscious man who, in reach of his spring, fronted his overwhelming physical strength with the habitual air of dignified command. His first impulse was that of violence; his second impulse curbed the first. But Darrell now turns quickl}', and walks straight on; the figure quits the mouth of the passage, and follows with a long and noiseless stride. It has nearly gained Darrell. With what intent? A fierce one, perhaps—for the man's face is sinister, and his state evidently desperate—when there emerges unexpectedly from an ugly-looking court or cul de sac, just between Darrell and his pursuer, a slim, long-backed, buttoned up, weasel-faced police- man.
The policeman eyes the tatterdemalion instinctively, then turns his glance toward the solitary, defenceless gentleman in ad- vance, and walks on, keeping himself between the two. The tatterdemalion stifles animpaiient curse. Be his purpose force, be it only supplication, be it colloquy of any kind, impossible to fulfil It while that policeman is there. True, that in his powerful hands he could have clutched that slim, long-backed officer, and broken him in two as a willow wand. But that officer is the Personation of Law, and can stalk through a legion of tatterdemalions as a ferret may glide through a
