He was a tamed-down, feeble-looking being, but the spirit was not all gone, for as he came down the street, with the genial friendliness of all dogs towards one who seems to be a stranger and down in the world, Miss Heathery's fat, ill-conditioned terrier, that she pampered under the belief that it was a dog of good breed, being in an evil temper consequent upon not having been taken for a walk by its mistress, rushed out baying, barking, and snapping at the stranger's heels. "Get out, will you?" he shouted; but the dog barked the more, and the stranger looked as if about to run. In fact he did run a few yards, but, as the dog followed, he caught up a flower-pot from a handy window-sill--every one had flower-pots at King's Castor--and hurled it at the dog. There was a yell, a crash, and explosion as if of a shell; Miss Heathery's dog fled, and, without waiting to encounter the owner of the flower-pot, the stranger hurried round the corner, and after an inquiry or two, made for the bank. "Vicious little beast! Wish I'd killed it," he grumbled, giving the hat a hoist behind which necessitated another in front, and then the equilibrium adjusting at the sides. "Wonder people keep dogs," he continued. "A nuisance. Wish I was a dog--somebody's dog, and well fed. Lead a regular dog's life, and get none of the bones. Perhaps I shall, though, now." The young man looked anything but a bank customer, but he did not hesitate. Merely stopping to give his coat a drag down, and then, tilting his hat slightly, he entered with a swagger, and walked up to the broad counter. Upon this he rested a gloveless hand, an act which seemed to give a little more steadiness to his weak frame. "Rob," he said. The manager raised his head with an affected start. "Oh, you don't know me, eh?" said the visitor. "Well, I s'pose I am a bit changed." "Know you? You wish to see me?" said Hallam coolly. "Yes, Mr Robert Hallam; I've come down from London on purpose. I couldn't come before," he added meaningly, "but now I want to have a talk with you." "Stephen Crellock! Why, you are changed." "Yes, as aforesaid." "Well, sir. What is it you want with me?" said the manager coldly. "What do I want with you, eh? Oh, come, that's rich! You're a lucky one, you are. I go to prison, and you get made manager down here. Ah! you see I know all about it." "I do not understand you, sir." "Then I'll tell you, my fine fellow. Some men never get found out, some do; that's the difference between us two. I've gone to the wall--inside it," he added, with a sickly grin. "You've got to be quite the gentleman. But they'll find you out some day." "Well, sir, what is this to lead up to?" said Hallam. "Oh, I say though, Rob Hallam, this is too rich. Manager here, and going, they say, to marry the prettiest girl in the place." Hallam started in spite of his self-command. "And I suppose I shall be asked to the wedding, shan't I?"