In that manner it was Bealby first saw a dead man. Never before had he seen anyone dead. And after that for all the night the old white man pursued him, with strange slowly-opening eyes, and a head on one side and his mouth suddenly and absurdly agape.... All night long that white figure presided over seas of dark dismay. It seemed always to be there, and yet Bealby thought of a score of other painful things. For the first time in his life he asked himself, “Where am I going? What am I drifting to?” The world beneath the old man’s dominance was a world of prisons. Bealby believed he was a burglar and behind the darkness he imagined the outraged law already seeking him. And the terrors of his associate reinforced his own. He tried to think what he should do in the morning. He dreaded the dawn profoundly. But he could not collect his thoughts because of the tramp’s incessant lapses into grumbling lamentation. Bealby knew he had to get away from the tramp, but now he was too weary and alarmed to think of running away as a possible expedient. And besides there was the matter of his money. And beyond the range of the tramp’s voice there were darknesses which to-night at least might hold inconceivable forms of lurking evil. But could he not appeal to the law to save him? Repent? Was there not something called turning King’s Evidence? The moon was no comfort that night. Across it there passed with incredible slowness a number of jagged little black clouds, blacker than any clouds Bealby had ever seen before. They were like velvet palls, lined with snowy fur. There was no end to them. And one at last most horribly gaped slowly and opened a mouth.... § 7 At intervals there would be uncomfortable movements and the voice of the tramp came out of the darkness beside Bealby lamenting his approaching fate and discoursing—sometimes with violent expressions—on watch-dogs. “I know I shall ’ave ’idrophobia,” said the tramp. “I’ve always ’ad a disposition to ’idrophobia. Always a dread of water—and now it’s got me. “Think of it!—keeping a beast to set at a ’uman being. Where’s the brotherhood of it? Where’s the law and the humanity? Getting a animal to set at a brother man. And a poisoned animal, a animal with death in his teeth. And a ’orrible death too. Where’s the sense and brotherhood? “Gaw! when I felt ’is teeth coming through my träsers—! “Dogs oughtn’t to be allowed. They’re a noosance in the towns and a danger in the country. They oughtn’t to be allowed anywhere—not till every blessed ’uman being ’as got three square meals a day. Then if you like, keep a dog. And see ’e’s a clean dog.... “Gaw! if I’d been a bit quicker up that ’en roost—! “I ought to ’ave landed ’im a kick. “It’s a man’s duty to ’urt a dog. When ’e sees a dog ’e ought to ’urt ’im. It’s a natural ’atred. If dogs were what they ought to be, if dogs understood ’ow they’re situated, there wouldn’t be a dog go for a man ever.