[Illustration: "Fullalove Alley."]

The object of Mr. Hardy's search sat at the door of his front room, which
opened on to the alley, smoking an evening pipe, and noting with an
interested eye the doings of his neighbours. He was just preparing to
draw himself up in his chair as the intruder passed, when to his utter
astonishment that gentleman stopped in front of him, and taking
possession of his hand shook it fervently.

"How do you do?" he said, smiling.

Mr. Wilks eyed him stupidly and, releasing his hand, coyly placed it in
his trouser-pocket and breathed hard.

"I meant to come before," said Hardy, "but I've been so busy. How are
you?"

Mr. Wilks, still dazed, muttered that he was very well. Then he sat bolt
upright in his chair and eyed his visitor suspiciously.

"I've been longing for a chat with you about old times," said Hardy; "of
all my old friends you seem to have changed the least. You don't look a
day older."

"I'm getting on," said Mr. Wilks, trying to speak coldly, but observing
with some gratification the effect produced upon his neighbours by the
appearance of this well-dressed acquaintance.

"I wanted to ask your advice," said the unscrupulous Hardy, speaking in
low tones. "I daresay you know I've just gone into partnership in