perpetrated. An impulse, which he could not restrain, caused him to whisper
his fears to his companion. Glover laughed, a little uneasily, he thought,
but made no answer.

Soon they reached the opposite boundary of the Common, and continued
through Hancock Street, ascending and descending the hill. While passing
the reservoir in that dull gray darkness, Lorrimer felt as if under the
shadow of some giant tomb. Hastening forward, for it was growing late, they
threaded a number of the short avenues of Ward Three, and at length, when
young New York's endurance was nearly exhausted, reached their destination
in Chambers Street. It must have been the fatigue which, as they crossed
the threshold, propelled Mr. Lorrimer against the door, causing him to
stain himself unbecomingly with new paint.

They mounted the stairs, and entered a comfortable apartment, in which a
fresh fire was diffusing a most welcome glow, and a spacious bed
luxuriously invited occupancy. Lorrimer had but one grief, which he freely
communicated to his host,--his fingers were liberally decorated with dark
daubs, to which he pointed with unsteady anguish.

"It's a filthy shame!" said he, with more energy of manner than certainty
of utterance.

A section of the chamber was separated from the rest by a screen. Into this
retreat Glover disappeared, and immediately returned with a bottle, from
which he poured an acid that effaced the spots. "It will wash away
anything," said he, laughing.

Lorrimer was superabundantly profuse in thanks, and announced that his mind
was now at ease. By some mysterious process, not clearly explicable to