Mr. Howard drew forth a small key from his pocket, and with it opened the iron gate of the railings in front of the house. Torrens followed him across the little enclosure; and with another and larger key he opened the door of the dark and gloomy-looking dwelling. No domestic appeared; and the lawyer, entering the parlour, groped about in the dark until he found some lucifer-matches--Torrens remaining all the while in the passage. At length a light was obtained; and the visitor was requested to enter the room, which, by means of the one poor candle that now threw a feeble gleam around, appeared to be but indifferently furnished,--so that the aspect of the small and cheerless house somewhat damped the hopes which Torrens had entertained of compelling the individual whom he had thus accidentally encountered, to disgorge the sum embezzled by him upwards of nineteen years previously. “Do you live all alone here?” he demanded, taking the seat to which Howard pointed. “Yes--all alone,” was the reply. “I am too poor to keep a servant.” “Too poor!” exclaimed Mr. Torrens, his heart sinking within him. “Yes, indeed! How should I be possessed of any money?” said Howard, glancing around with nervous anxiety, as if he were afraid of being overheard. “From the moment that I was forced, by unexpected reverses and sudden misfortunes, to fly from London, I have led a life of continued struggles; and although, a few years ago, I was venturous enough to return to the metropolis and settle in this little cottage, which I got at a cheap rent as it was only just built,--yet my affairs have not improved----” “But you must have some means of subsistence?--you pursue some avocation?--you doubtless continue to practise----” “No--no,” interrupted Howard, hastily. “I have been compelled to change my name--and it is as Mr. Percival--_poor Mr. Percival_--that I am known in this neighbourhood.” “You adopt strange precautions for a poor man,” said Torrens, pointing to the strong iron bars that fastened the shutters of the window: then, turning a look full of sardonic meaning upon Howard--or Percival, as we shall call him,--he added, “And methinks that when you opened your front door just now, a heavy chain rattled. Assuredly your little house is well protected.” “What would you infer from these facts?” demanded Percival: “that I have money--that I have turned miser?” he cried, with a forced and unnatural laugh. “Absurd! The person who lived here before me, had those bars put up to the window-shutters, and that heavy chain to the street door----” “I thought you got the house cheap because it had only just been built?” said Torrens, smiling with malignant incredulity. “Yes--but I did not tell you that I was the first person who occupied it,” exclaimed Percival, as if eager to explain away an inconsistency in his statements and efface from the mind of his visitor the disagreeable impression made there.