stables,--No.----, the Mews, behind Curzon Street. Poor fellow, he wants
his supper,--and you, too, I suppose!"

Beck smiled a pale, hungry smile, and pulled his forelock politely.

"I can take the 'oss werry safely, your 'onor."

"Take him, then, and good evening; but don't get on, for your life."

"Oh, no, sir; I never gets on,--'t aint in my ways."

And Beck slowly led the horse through the crowd, till he vanished from
Percival's eyes.

Just then a man passing through the street paused as he saw the young
gentleman on the steps of the club, and said gayly, "Ah! how do you do?
Pretty faces in plenty out to-night. Which way are you going?"

"That is more than I can tell you, Mr. Varney. I was just thinking which
turn to take,--the right or the left."

"Then let me be your guide;" and Varney offered his arm.

Percival accepted the courtesy, and the two walked on towards Piccadilly.
Many a kind glance from the milliners--and maid-servants whom the
illuminations drew abroad, roved, somewhat impartially, towards St. John
and his companion; but they dwelt longer on the last, for there at least
they were sure of a return. Varney, if not in his first youth, was still
in the prime of life, and Time had dealt with him so leniently that he
retained all the personal advantages of youth itself. His complexion