"Well, you can manage it as you please," said Dowker. "But don't you prick yourself with it, as it's poisoned, and Flip, if you bring me this dagger without him knowing about it, I'll give you half a sov." "Done, Guv'nor!" said Flip, joyfully, and bidding adieu to his patron, went off to get something to eat and prepare his plan of action. It was now about six o'clock and very dark, the sky being overcast with clouds. Soon it began to rain steadily, and the streets became sloppy and dismal. Flip drew his rags round him, shivered a little in a professional manner, and then, going off to a cook-shop he patronised in Drury Lane, had a hunch of bread and a steaming cup of coffee for a small sum. Being thus prepared for his work, Flip wiped his mouth, and, sallying forth into the dirty Lane, took his way up to Bloomsbury, combining business with pleasure by begging on the road. Turning into Primrose Crescent, he soon found the house he wanted, and curling himself up on the doorstep, waited patiently for chance to deliver Myles into his designing hands. The rain continued to pour down steadily, and as it was now dark Flip could see the windows all along the street being lighted up. The gas-lamps also shone brightly through the rain, and were reflected in dull, blurred splashes on the pavements. Occasionally a gentleman would hurry past with his umbrella up, and a ragged tramp would slouch along singing a dismal ditty. It was dreary waiting, but Flip was used to such times, and sat quite contented, thinking how he could lay out his promised half-sovereign to the best advantage, till his quick ear caught the sound of footsteps inside. This was his cue, so he immediately lay down on the wet stones, and commenced to moan dismally: Myles opened the door, and would have stumbled over him, for he was right in front of the entrance after the fashion of the clown in the pantomime, only he caught sight of him in time. "Hullo," said Myles crossly, "what the deuce is the matter?" Flip made no reply to this, but groaned with renewed vigour, upon which Desmond, who was a kind-hearted man, bent down and touched the ragged little figure. "Are you ill?" he asked gently. "Oh, lor'--awful--my insides," groaned Flip pressing his dirty hands on his stomach. "Ain't 'ad a bit for days." Myles was doubtful as to the genuineness of this case as he knew how deceptive tramps are, but as the poor lad did seem in pain, and it was raining heavily, he determined to give him the benefit of the doubt. "Can you rise?" he asked sharply, "if so get up and come inside. I'll give you something to do you good." With many groans and asseverations of extreme pain Flip struggled to his feet, and aided by Myles went inside, up the stairs, and was at last safely deposited on the hearthrug in front of the fire, where he lay and groaned with great dramatic effect.