Hilliard related the circumstances. Then he drew from his pocket an
oblong slip of paper, and held it out.

"Dengate?" cried his friend. "How the deuce did you get hold of
this?"

Explanation followed. They debated Dengate's character and motives.

"I can understand it," said Narramore. "When I was a boy of twelve I
once cheated an apple-woman out of three-halfpence. At the age of
sixteen I encountered the old woman again, and felt immense
satisfaction in giving her a shilling. But then, you see, I had done
with petty cheating; I wished to clear my conscience, and look my
fellow-woman in the face."

"That's it, no doubt. He seems to have got some sort of position in
Liverpool society, and he didn't like the thought that there was a
poor devil at Dudley who went about calling him a scoundrel.
By-the-bye, someone told him that I had taken to liquor, and was on
my way to destruction generally. I don't know who it could be."

"Oh, we all have candid friends that talk about us.

"It's true I have been drunk now and then of late. There's much to
be said for getting drunk."

"Much," assented Narramore, philosophically.

Hilliard went on with his supper; his friend puffed tobacco, and