‘Say, Penny,’ he remarked at length, with something of shamefacedness, ‘there’s a namesake of mine here as I shan’t miss, if you can do any good with it.’ He held a shilling towards her under his hand. Pennyloaf turned away, casting down her eyes and looking troubled. ‘We can get on for a bit,’ she said indistinctly. Bob returned the coin to his pocket. He whistled again for a moment, then asked abruptly: ‘Say! have you seen Clem again?’ ‘No,’ replied the girl, examining him with sudden acuteness. ‘What about her?’ ‘Nothing much. She’s got her back up a bit, that’s all.’ ‘About me?’ Pennyloaf asked anxiously. Bob nodded. As he was making some further remarks on the subject, a man’s figure appeared at a little distance, and almost immediately withdrew again round a winding of the Passage. A moment after there sounded from that direction a shrill whistle. Bob and the girl regarded each other. ‘Who was that?’ said the former suspiciously. ‘I half believe it was Jeck Bartley. If Jeck is up to any of his larks, I’ll make him remember it. You wait here a minute!’ He walked at a sharp pace towards the suspected quarter. Scarcely had he gone half a dozen yards, when there came running from the other end of the Passage a girl whom Pennyloaf at once recognised. It was Clem Peckover; with some friend’s assistance she had evidently tracked the couple and was now springing out of ambush. She rushed upon Pennyloaf, who for very alarm could not flee, and attacked her with clenched fists. A scream of terror and pain caused Bob to turn and run back. Pennyloaf could not even ward off the blows that descended upon her head; she was pinned against the wall, her hat was torn away, her hair began to fly in disorder. But Bob effected a speedy rescue. He gripped Clem’s muscular arms, and forced them behind her back as if he meant to dismember her. Even then it was with no slight effort that he restrained the girl’s fury. ‘You run off ’ome!’ he shouted to Pennyloaf. ‘If she tries this on again, I’ll murder her!’ Pennyloaf’s hysterical cries and the frantic invectives of her assailant made the Passage ring. Again Bob roared to the former to be off, and was at length obeyed. When Pennyloaf was out of sight he released Clem. Her twisted arms caused her such pain that she threw herself against the wall, mingling maledictions with groans. Bob burst into scornful laughter. Clem went home vowing vengeance. In the nether world this trifling dissension might have been expected to bear its crop of violent language and straightway pass into oblivion; but Miss Peckover’s malevolence was of no common stamp, and the scene of to-night originated a feud which in the end concerned many more people than those immediately interested. CHAPTER IX PATHOLOGICAL