But by the end of the week hope was dropping to zero again with Lauriston. No letters had arrived--either from John Purdie or the editor. On the Sunday morning he was again face to face with the last half-crown. He laid out his money very cautiously that day, but when he had paid for a frugal dinner at a cheap coffee-shop, he had only a shilling left. He wandered into Kensington Gardens that Sunday afternoon, wondering what he had best do next. And as he stood by the railings of the ornamental water, watching the water-fowls' doings, somebody bade him good-day, and he turned to find the pretty girl of the pawnshop standing at his side and smiling shyly at him. CHAPTER THREE THE DEAD MAN Lauriston was thinking about Zillah at the very moment in which she spoke to him: the memory of her dark eyes and the friendly smile that she had given him as he left the pawnshop had come as a relief in the midst of his speculations as to his immediate future. And now, as he saw her real self, close to him, evidently disposed to be friendly, he blushed like any girl, being yet at that age when shyness was still a part of his character. Zillah blushed too--but she was more self-possessed than Lauriston. "I've been talking to my Cousin Melky about you," she said quickly. "Or, rather, he's been talking to me. He says he's going to introduce you to a man who wants his catalogue put in shape--for five pounds. Don't you do it for five pounds! I know that man--charge him ten!" Lauriston moved away with her down the walk. "Oh, but I couldn't do that, now!" he said eagerly. "You see I promised I'd do it for five." Zillah gave him a quick glance. "Don't you be silly!" she said. "When anybody like Melky offers you five pounds for anything, ask them double. They'll give it. You don't know much about money matters, do you?" Lauriston laughed, and gaining confidence, gave the girl a knowing look. "Not much," he admitted, "else I wouldn't have had to do that bit of business with you the other day." "Oh--that!" she said indifferently. "That's nothing. You'd be astonished if you knew what sort of people just have to run round to us, now and then--I could tell you some secrets! But--I guessed you weren't very well up in money matters, all the same. Writing people seldom are." "I suppose you are?" suggested Lauriston. "I've been mixed up in them all my life, more or less," she answered. "Couldn't help being, with my surroundings. You won't think me inquisitive if I ask you something? Were you--hard up--when you came round the other night?" "Hard up's a mild term," replied Lauriston, frankly. "I hadn't a penny!" "Excepting a gold watch worth twelve or fifteen pounds," remarked Zillah, drily. "And how long had you been like that?" "Two or three days--more or less," answered Lauriston. "You see, I've been expecting money for more than a week--that was it." "Has it come?" she asked. "No--it hasn't," he replied, with a candid blush. "That's a fact!"