Another minute, and the latter felt his shoulder rudely seized. He wheeled round instanter. The man he had pushed out of his path was at his side, his features distorted with rage. “Unmannerly cub!” he cried, “how dare you thrust yourself against me?” “You are quite able to frame the explanation if you require one, and to comprehend my refusal to make any apology,” returned Hal, with calmness. “Let me also counsel you not to repeat the offence of which you have been guilty, or the consequences, as now, may not terminate in a simple collision.” He moved on, as the excited individual exclaimed-- “But for that fair creature on your arm, I would have caned you soundly, you insolent puppy.” Hal’s lip curled contemptuously; he refrained from replying to the threat, and left the man to resent his conduct in any shape he pleased. They were now before the open dooorway, No. 10, and followed the messenger up the worn stone steps that looked as though water was to them a fable and grease their daily food. By the aid of the iron banisters and Hal’s arm, Flora, with beating heart, reached the second flight, and saw the messenger who had preceded them halting in the stone corridor before a door. Upon it was painted the figure 5. This, then, was 5, in 10, and within the room which that painted door guarded, was her father, a prisoner. Still there was no grim turnkey, no dripping walls, no dark dungeon--though Heaven knows the vaulted passages lighted by small, arched, iron-grated windows, looked dreary enough. “This is the place,” said the messenger, “the room where Mr. Wilton is staying; and with better luck than I have. Ah, sir, my friends have all died, or wandered away long ago, and I, without them, or help of any kind, have been obliged to declare myself on the County. That means, sir, that I am supplied with a room and a scanty allowance of food by the authorities, but not a farthing in money, sir, not a farthing. You see before you, sir, a wretch who has not a farthing, nor any means of obtaining one, save through the charity of kind persons like yourself, who reward me with a trifle for conducting them to their friends.” Hal put his hand into his waistcoat pocket and drew forth half-a-crown. The usual reward was about twopence. Sometimes, by the tough-skinned, a penny was doled out, or a profitless, “Thank you,” but half-a-crown--that was unhoped-for munificence. With economy, how long would it supply him with tobacco and beer? The man’s eye glistened as a ray of light fell upon the coin. It was one of the last new dies, and was bright as from the Mint.