The other was of a heavier build, and was decidedly not dressed by a good tailor. He was not shabby, but careless; and while his companion was carefully gloved, he carried his hand-shoes in his hands, and certainly his hat had not been touched by a brush that morning. He was a good-looking, manly fellow, with very short hair and a very long beard, thick enough to hide three parts of his chest. The judge of human nature who had tried to read him at a glance, would, if right, have said, "Good fellow, somewhat of a cynic, don't care a _sou_ for appearances." Two of the characters in this comedy, to wit, Henry Lord Artingale, man of fashion with a good income; and James Magnus, artist of a manly school, who had cut deeply his mark upon the time. Another character was seated upon a bench some twenty yards away, cutting his mark, not on the time, but upon the park seat, with an ugly, sharp-pointed clasp-knife, which he closed with a snap, and then threw one great leg over the newly-cut wood, as he seemed to feel more than see the appearance of a policeman, who ran his eye shrewdly over the fellow as if considering him a "party" likely to be "wanted." Jock Morrison looked decidedly like the proverbial fish out of water as he stared sullenly about, but not as one might stare who finds himself in an incongruous position by accident. About the only ill-dressed person in his neighbourhood, Jock seemed in no wise abashed, nor yet the worse for his course of imprisonment, his dark beard having rapidly grown and got well over the blacking-brush stage so affected by the Parisian "swell." Far from seeming abashed, Jock Morrison was ready with a cool, defiant look for every one not in the law, and as a rule those who stared at the great swarthy fellow once were satisfied not to repeat the look. Jock was evidently in the park for a purpose, and every now and then his eyes wandered over the lines of carriages, but without seeing that of which he was in quest, and as soon as the policeman was gone he once more opened his knife, and began to carve, handily enough, a new design--this time a couple of hearts locked together after the time-honoured fashion shown in a valentine. "That's about as picturesque-looking a blackguard as I've seen for months," said Magnus, looking across the road at where the fellow lounged. "I wonder whether he'd come and stand for me." "H'm, yes," said his companion; "nice-looking youth." "He'd make a splendid bull-fighter in a Spanish scene." "H'm, bull-dog fighter, I should have said, Mag. By the way, I'd have a certificate from the baths and wash-houses before I admitted him to the studio. He looks disgustingly dirty." "Yah! horrible! Take me away, Harry. I feel as if I were going to be sick." "Why, what's the matter now?" "Talk about that great blackguard looking disgusting: here's my great horror!" "What, Perry-Morton?"