"There goes an honest, suffering man," he said; "thorough to the backbone. He has inflicted a martyrdom upon himself, and is following a will-o'-the-wisp." But the events of the next few hours were destined to prove that Fred Cornwall was in error. CHAPTER XVIII. A LIFE-AND-DEATH STRUGGLE. It was an hour past midnight, and the fog had deepened so that a man could scarcely see a yard before him. On the North Finchley Road it lay particularly thick, and the sky and surrounding space seemed to be blotted out--as they certainly were from two wayfarers who plodded their way slowly onward through the darkness. They were a man and a woman, who, although they were wrapped in gloom, cast apprehensive glances on all sides, and frequently stopped to listen for sounds of footsteps. "Jeremiah, my love," said the woman, shivering, "why did you insist upon our leaving our nice warm quarters on such a night? It will be the death of me." "_I'll_ be the death of you," growled the man, "if you call me by my name! Mind that, you old fool!" "Don't speak to me so hard!" implored the woman; "no one can hear us. The night ain't fit for a dog to be out in it." "That's the reason we're out in it," said Jeremiah, with a curse. "Hold your row, if you don't want me to do you a mischief!" "Oh!" murmured Mrs. Pamflett, "that you should say such things to me after all I've done for you!" "After all you've done for me! Yes, you _have_ done for me! If it hadn't been for you dragging at my heels I should have been out of this infernal scrape weeks ago. You're a nice mother, you are! What's the use of such as you, I'd like to know?" They were so well disguised that it would have been difficult even for those best acquainted with them to identify them; hence Jeremiah's caution to his mother as to being careful with her speech was not unnecessary. Nevertheless, he presently spoke again, either because he deemed that the darkness by which they were surrounded afforded them sufficient security or because he dreaded the terrors of silence. "Why did I insist upon our leaving our nice warm quarters? You want me to tell you that, do you?" "Yes," she whined. "We were safe there--we were safe there!" "We were not! Had we remained we should have been nabbed by this time, and then what chance would have been left for us? The landlord warned me; he told me we were being hunted down, and that there was danger in our keeping in our hiding-place another night." "Who has hunted us down--who, my love?" "Yah! keep your love to yourself; I'm sick of it. Who? Ah, I should like to know, and have him here! There'd be no more hunting down for him, I promise!" "The landlord was frightened; he wanted to get rid of us."