There was something so heavenly and bewitching in the expression of the face of this fair young creature that Peace felt abashed and crest-fallen in her presence. He found it impossible to meet the glance of her dark, lustrous eyes without quailing. Conscious of his own weakness in this respect, he was fearful lest it might be observed by others. He therefore, upon the first opportunity that presented itself, passed out of the room unobserved, and crept along the passage towards the side door, by means of which he gained the street. Then he breathed again more freely. He saw Bessie Dalton and Mrs. Bristow some distance ahead, in company with a gentleman, and walked on quickly, that he might overtake them; but his progress was checked by a shabby, dilapidated-looking man addressing him―― “Be your name Peace, sir?” inquired that personage. “Maybe it is, and maybe it is not. What matters it to you?” “I’ve got a letter.” “Indeed. Who from?” “I don’t know the party’s name, but he said I was to give it to you.” Peace snatched a dirty piece of paper from the speaker’s hand, opened it, and read the following words, which were written in a miserable scrawl―― “Dear Charlie,――‘Cheeks’ (a flash name for an accomplice) is nabbed――want to see you――am at the ‘Bag o’ Nails’――hard by――bearer will show you where it is――don’t delay. Yours, COONEY.” “Here in this town,” muttered Peace to himself. “How can he have possibly guessed? Why, of course, my name in the bills. Curse it, I must have been mad to play in my own name.” “Any answer, sir?” said the man, touching his forehead. “Answer. Well, yes, I s’pose so. He wants to see me. Where’s this house, the ‘Bag o’ Nails?’” “Not a quarter of a mile from here.” “Very good, then I’ll go at once with you.” Peace and his dilapidated companion walked on in silence for some time; they threaded three of the dingiest and most miserable streets in the town. The locality was in consonance with the character of the tinker. “Do you know the person who gave you that letter?” said Peace. “I’ve seen him once or twice before, I think. Don’t know much on him. Guv’nor does, I believe.” “Umph. Has he been long in the town?” “Came yesterday, I b’lieve.” They now arrived in front of a dirty-looking beershop, which was the house they were bound for. The man, who was potman to the establishment, led the way in. He passed the bar, and pointed to a room in the rear of the premises. Peace entered. A solitary person was in the apartment. This was Cooney. “Well,” said Peace, offering his hand, “we meet again once more. How goes it with you?” “Precious bad――jolly bad; haven’t got a stiver. Am bust up――that’s how I am.” Peace took hold of one of the ricketty wooden chairs, which he drew towards the fire, and sat down beside his quondam pal. “You managed to give ’em the slip, then?” said Cooney, with a chuckle. “But the old un’s grabbed.” “So I’ve heard. It was a bad night’s work altogether.”