When he was alone, he stood in the quiet street, looking up at the light in the room where the old man had been waiting anxiously for his darling Lily. CHAPTER IV. MR. DAVID SHELDRAKE COMES TO A SHREWD CONCLUSION. Mr. David Sheldrake, smooth and bland in voice and manner, lingered about the streets for several minutes. It was a beautifully clear night, and he may have been inclined for meditation. His appearance was sufficiently respectable for such an indulgence, and a policeman who stood in the shadow of a doorway quietly observing him did not think it necessary to interfere with him. He glanced up at the first-floor window, and saw the shadow of a woman upon the blind. "I wonder if that is her room," he thought. "What a little nugget she is!" He wished that somebody would come to the street-door, that he might ask if Lily lived on the first-floor; but no one came, and the narrow street was still and quiet. "David," he said to himself, "that girl's pretty face has quite bewitched you." He seemed to take pleasure in the thought, and smiled to himself complacently. It was evidently not the first time that he had been bewitched by a pretty face. He took his cigar-case from his pocket, and, turning to a doorway to obtain a light for his cigar, saw the policeman. "A fine night, policeman," he said. "Yes, sir," acquiesced the policeman civilly. "Been on this beat long, policeman?" "A considerable time, sir." "Pretty quiet about here, isn't it?" "Pretty quiet, sir. But we get enough trouble out there;" with a nod of his head in the direction of the Royal White Rose Music-hall. "Ah, I daresay. Saturday nights especially." "As you say, sir; Saturday nights especially." "A cigar, policeman?" "No, thank you, sir; not allowed to smoke." Mr. Sheldrake coughed, and the policeman coughed in sympathy. "Can we get anything to drink about here, policeman?" "Not to-night, sir," said the policeman somewhat stiffly. "The houses shut at twelve, Saturday nights." His two bribes having been refused, Mr. Sheldrake bethought himself of another. But first he said, as he put his hand into his pocket, "Who lives in that house opposite, policeman?" "Quite a number of people, sir. Half a dozen families, I should say." Here the jingle of money fell upon the policeman's ears. It produced a curious effect upon him. He coughed a little cough, which might have been interpreted, "Behold me, one of her Majesty's servants, always ready to do my duty." Then he looked up at the sky, and down on the pavement, and round on the houses, and anywhere but in the direction where Mr. Sheldrake stood; murmuring at the same time dreamily, in a soft musing tone, "_Quite_ half a dozen families, I should say, sir."