It was while speaking--almost in a state of abstraction--that Helen’s eyes involuntarily fell upon a glass which reflected the door of the apartment; she uttered an exclamation of affrighted surprise, pressed her hands over her face to conceal it, and cowering, as if she should shrink into the place beneath at every step, tottered, rather than ran, out of the room. At the same moment, Lotte was startled by hearing a voice, whose tones were quite unknown to her, exclaim-- “Beg pardon. Don’t let me disturb anybody. I want to see Miss Clinton.” She turned round in her seat with the rapidity of lightning, and beheld, standing in the doorway, a young gentleman, who was to her an utter stranger. CHAPTER VIII.--THE COMPACT. For ’tis the sport to have the engineer Hoist with his own petard, and it shall go hard, But I will delve one yard below their mines, And blow ’em at the moon. Shakspere. Mr. Chewkle, with a tolerably large sum of money in his pocket, felt quite a different man to the Mr. Chewkle hunted, like a fox, by a pack of policemen, or a fugitive slave--according to his own view of the matter--by bloodhounds. He was a cunning fellow was Mr. Chewkle. He had spoken truth when he stated that he had made use of--i.e., embezzled--the money entrusted to him by a benefit society, but he had carefully secreted their books when he left word that he was “gone into the country,” and he was now prepared to “arrive home,” produce his books carefully made up, hand over the balance, and commence actions at law for slander against every person worth sueing whom he could discover to have spoken prejudicially against him. His place of abode was watched, but not so closely as to prevent his slinking into it, during a violent shower of rain, unobserved, and regaining his room. Having carefully shut out every possibility of a light breaking through a chink or cranny, in shutter or door, he proceeded to light a lamp, to fetch out his books, to set them in order, and, when that was done, to sneak to bed. He woke with the dawn, and got away without attracting the attention of the man set to watch the premises, inasmuch as that individual was, at the moment, tightly hugged in the arms of Morpheus. Chewkle made his way to the residence of Jukes, who received him with a grin of felicitous surprise, as he knew there was a reward offered for his apprehension, and he instantly resolved to obtain it by handing his dear old pal, Chewk, over to the tender attentions of the police. This hope of aggrandisement was dispelled, however, by Chewkle confessing his knowledge of the charges made against him, and that the police were after him. “But there’s the books to show all straightforward, Jukes,” he cried, snapping his fingers. “And the ballence,” suggested Jukes, “you forget the little bal-lence?”