At last the telegram came. He said, "Awf'ly sorry, old man, but I must go out for half an hour; they want me to do a leaderette for to-morrow's _Happy Despatch_ on the 'spinning-house' row. I'll be back very shortly." He went out in a hurry to the Temple, where he found Sturtevant in evening dress, white and haggard, walking up and down the room. * * * * * They got the cheque, and Sturtevant cashed it before lunch next morning, and at one o'clock they met in Gobion's rooms to divide the spoil. Over the meal--a dainty repast, ordered to celebrate their achievement--they were in the highest spirits. To-morrow they resolved that they would go to Cannes, or perhaps further still. "We might do Madeira," said Sturtevant. "Think of the heat, the quivering air, the hum of the insects, ah-h!" He took a deep anticipatory breath, and as he did so the door opened and an elderly gentleman came in. "I don't think I have the pleasure," said Gobion, rising from his chair. "My name is Ringwood," said the stranger quietly. Gobion flinched as if he had been struck in the face. There was a strained, tense silence, only broken by the gurgling of the champagne in Sturtevant's glass as he raised it to his lips. Then he sneered, "Ah!" his lips curling away from his teeth. Lord Ringwood struggled desperately to control himself. "Good God! what a damned couple of rascals you are!" he cried. Gobion laughed a little sickly, pitiable laugh. "Fine day," he said. The peer got up. "I see now what to do," he said. "I was a fool to come here. I'll have you both in gaol this afternoon." When he had gone, and they had heard the front door bang, Gobion jumped up and packed a portmanteau. "Go back to the Temple," he said; "no one knows your address. I'm going to get rooms somewhere in Pimlico--till we can get further away. I'll come to the Temple to-night." He got into a cab and drove away. As he turned into the Embankment a piano-organ burst out with "The Dandy Coloured Coon," and the tune throbbed in his brain, keeping time to the monotonous beat of the horse's feet on the macadam. CHAPTER VII. _THE CONSOLATIONS OF MRS. EBBAGE; WITH SOME ACCOUNT OF THE REV. PETER BELPER_. In the Vauxhall Bridge Road Gobion found a room in a lodging-house kept by a Mrs. Ebbage. In the evening of the same day he went to the Temple, but found Sturtevant's door shut, and he received no answer to his knocks. As he was turning away he saw that something was written on a piece of paper pinned to the door. "To Y. G.,--Note for you at the 'Grecian' bar. "M. S." He went to the bar and got the letter, which ran:-- "MIDDLE TEMPLE. "DEAR GOBION,--I have gone to the southern heat as we proposed, and shall soon be sailing over the siren-haunted Mediterranean. I enclose a ten-pound note in the hope that a period of enforced sobriety may tend to a worthier life for you.