You must know, Sir, when he was a lad, the day after he broke into his master's house in Wych Street, he picked a gentleman's pocket in our church, during sarvice time,—that he did, the heathen. And in those days, too, he used to help her mother with her gardening, and hover about her while she stood on the ladder and hammered creepers to the scullery wall. A sinister thought edged in. Then the girl was heading past the inn and Roding marched down to confront her. She was ushered into the back of the squad car. But his own situation was too perilous to admit of his rendering any assistance to the ill-fated waterman.
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