raise its head, but a low, broken voice muttered,--

"It be too late now; let 'em take me to prison, let 'em send me 'cross
the sea to Buttany, let 'em hang me, if they please. I be 's good for
nothin' now,--nothin'!"

Altered as the voice was, it struck Percival as familiar. He looked down
and caught a view of the drooping face. "Up, man, up!" he said cheerily.
"See, Providence sends you an old friend in need, to teach you never to
despair again."

The hearty accent, more than the words, touched and aroused the poor
creature. He rose mechanically, and a sickly, grateful smile passed over
his wasted features as he recognized St. John.

"Come! how is this? I have always understood that to keep a crossing
was a flourishing trade nowadays."

"I 'as no crossin'. I 'as sold her!" groaned Beck. "I be's good for
nothin' now but to cadge about the streets, and steal, and filch, and
hang like the rest on us! Thank you kindly, sir," and Beck pulled his
forelock, "but, please your honour, I vould rather make an ind on it!"

"Pooh, pooh! didn't I tell you when you wanted a friend to come to me?
Why did you doubt me, foolish fellow? Pick up those shillings; get a bed
and a supper. Come and see me to-morrow at nine o'clock; you know
where,--the same house in Curzon Street; you shall tell me then your
whole story, and it shall go hard but I'll buy you another crossing, or
get you something just as good."