‘Heaven reward your worship!’ said Cestus, kissing the robe of his generous friend. ‘If I have health and strength I will repay you this loan, as well as the cost you have been put to on my account; but, if I could discharge the debt of gratitude as easily as the money, I would be thankful indeed.’ ‘Think no more of it,’ rejoined the other. It is not too much to say that Cestus was really touched and grateful for his treatment. He even swore to himself that he would prove it practically, at some future time, if possible. The first thing that he did, on getting out of doors, was to obtain a supply of a certain kind of berry, yielding a juice which he diluted to bring to a requisite tinge. This he applied to his skin, and it, at once, gave him the appearance of a man bronzed by exposure to the weather, whilst his thinned drawn features easily suggested, at the same time, the effects of fatigues and privations. Presenting himself suddenly before his host, he was gratified to learn that the change was so great as to mystify that worthy man for a moment. This excursion proved to Cestus how very far his limbs were from their pristine state of sturdiness. His next expedition, with his embrowned face, was a ramble into the Subura. He took the most unfrequented streets, and, when he arrived at his destination, he avoided all chance of contact with acquaintances. Sending for the individual whom he had constituted his banker, he remained closeted with that worthy in a retreat secure from intrusion. This man was a tavern‐keeper in the lowest part of the Subura. His business was large, and Cestus one of his prodigal customers. Not a coin of the money he amassed in the practice of his trade but had been obtained by its spenders in the vocations of crime and vice. Learned as Cestus was in the secret history of his native locality, his knowledge was superficial compared with this man’s. Without actually engaging in any unlawful pursuit himself he was the confidant of all others who did. He was receptive and silent as the grave. Without incriminating himself he aided his hideous customers, and they, in return, bestowed on him their patronage. His trustworthiness was his power, and Cestus had perfect confidence in applying to him for the little help he required. The publican was truly surprised to see his friend, for all clue to his whereabouts had been completely lost. Cestus speedily made him acquainted with the history of his disappearance, and wound up with a tremendous oath for revenge. The other tried to get at the relations of his friend with his patron, the knight, but the Suburan only smiled and put his finger along his nose. ‘Some day, brother,’ he said, ‘but not now.’ ‘Well, well, as you please—I care little.’