"A poor bungler, a very poor bungler. A small mind, my dear sir, eaten up by self-conceit of the lowest and meanest quality." "For a long time Leroy evaded justice, but at length he was arrested. A popular newspaper published in its columns a portrait of the wretch----" "I see," said Devlin, "and you would publish my portrait in the newspapers?" "In every paper that would give it admittance; and few would refuse. Beneath it should be words to the effect that it was the portrait of a man who knew, before its committal, that the murder of the poor girl Lizzie Melladew was planned, and who must, therefore, be implicated in it. The portrait would lead to your arrest, and then Mr. and Mrs. Lemon would come forward with certain facts. Mr. Devlin, I would make London too hot to hold you." "An expressive phrase. Your plan is more than ordinarily clever; it is ingenious. And London," said Devlin thoughtfully, "is such a place to work in, such a place to live in, such a place to observe in! To be banished from it would be a great misfortune. What other city in the world is so full of devilment and crime; what other city in the world is so full of revelations; what other city in the world is so full of opportunities, so full of contrasts, so full of hypocrisy and frivolity, so full of cold-blooded villainy? The gutters, with their ripening harvests of vice for gaol find gallows; the perfumed gardens, the fevered courts; the river, with its burden of jewels and beauty, with its burden of woe and despair; the bridges, with their nightly load of hunger, sin, and shame; the mansions, with their music, and false smiles, and aching hearts; the garrets, with their dim lights flickering; the bells, with their solemn warning; the busy streets, with their scheming life; the smug faces, the pinched bellies, the satins, the rags, the social treacheries, the suicides, the secret crimes, the rotting souls! My dear sir, the prospect of your making such a field too hot to hold even such a poor tatter-demalion as myself overwhelms me. What is the alternative?" "That you pledge yourself by all that is holy and sacred to give me your fullest assistance towards the discovery of Lizzie Melladew's murderer." CHAPTER XXI. DEVLIN AND I MAKE A COMPACT. "A sacred and holy pledge," said Devlin, "from me? Is it possible that you ask _me_ to bind myself to you by a pledge that you deem holy and sacred?" "I know of no other way to secure your assistance," I said, feeling the weight of the sneer. "If you did, you would adopt it?" "Assuredly." "So that, after all, you are to a certain extent in my power." "As you to a certain extent are in mine."