MISERABLE December after- 
noon., dark and drear, damp 
and slimy underfoot, with a 
biting east wind which set 
the teeth on edge. Over the 
grass of the green hill, facing 
the park, hung a thick white 
mist, which reflected in a ghostly fashion 
the lights of the gas-lamps that stood at 
intervals on each side of the principal gravel 
paths. 
All day the place had been deserted, for 
the seats dripped with moisture, and even 
the weariest tramp hesitated to face the wind 
that seemed to revel in the wide open space, 
which in the genial spring season, with its 
soft turf, gently-cropping sheep, and gorgeous- 
flowering red and pink hawthorn and purple 
scented lilac, was a veritable garden of case. 
And at intervals, mingling with the moaning 
and rushing of the wind, could be distinctly 
heard the hollow roar of the fretted, thwarted 
wild beasts imprisoned in the Zoological 
Gardens, separated from the hill by the 
high road only. 
An afternoon to draw the curtains, and 
to thank God for the comfort of a cheery 
fireside and a friend to share it with. 
And a man stealing along, shrinking close 
to the park railings on the dark side of the 
high road, with his head bent, his shoulders 
hunched, and his cold, chapped hands thrust 
into the pockets of his threadbare coat, 
shuddered and winced as the icy blast blew 
fiercely into his haggard face. 
He was young, this man, his years number- 
ing not more than twenty-six or twenty- 
seven, and w'ould have been handsome but 
for a hunted, furtive look which had cruelly 
changed the expression of originally frank, 
rather widely set, dark grey eyes. His 
mouth, now grim and pale in hue, was fine 
in shape; and the chin, sunken in his chest, 
was big and strong, with an almost classical 
Vol. xlvi.— 19. 
cleft in the centre. His figure, too, was tall 
and well knit ; but his gait was that of a hunted, 
scared creature, of one who could not look 
his fellow-man in the face, and who, crushed 
by the perception of that fact, had lost all 
personal sense of dignity. 
Drawing his breath with difficulty, for he 
was weak from the effects of a serious illness 
passed in the wards of a workhouse infirmary, 
from which he had been discharged only a 
few hours previously, Francis Denham 
shambled and shuffled along, llis aching 
feet impeded his progress, and his heart 
thumped painfully as every now and then 
he started, and stopped in sudden alarm 
as a swaying bough of a tree cast a darker 
shadow over his path; and before he pro- 
ceeded on his weary way he glanced nervously 
and furtively over his shoulder, straining 
his ears for the sound of pursuit, and striving 
to penetrate the misty darkness with piteously- 
dilated eyes. 
His goal was a station on the North London 
line, from which he could get quickly to 
Euston. He had originally intended to walk 
the whole distance from the infirmary to 
Euston, but he now perceived clearly that 
his strength was inadequate to the strain 
of the mile and a half which still stretched 
before him, and that he could not possibly 
catch the five o’clock train, which would take 
him to his old home in Lancashire where his 
mother lived. 
His mother, whom he had not seen for 
eight long years, for whom his whole being 
yearned with a sick, hungry craving, which 
he felt must be satisfied, no matter what he 
did to accomplish his purpose. 
He had indeed stopped at nothing to 
obtain the . means necessary, but surely, he 
thought, he had suffered enough in the past. 
His mother, even when she knew all, would 
forgive him now. He would tell her every- 
thing, with his head in her lap, even as he did 
