"We might continue talking for hours, and could add little more to what we have already said and resolved. Here is our good friend, the landlady, with the tea. I will leave you together, and go and see how things are getting on." "There are three houses gutted, they say," said the landlady, "yours and the one on each side of it. It is a mercy the whole alley isn't down." "It is, and I am glad for those who have escaped." "Don't go without a cup of tea, Mr. Loveday," said the landlady; "I've brought up one for you. I thought you would prefer it in your own room, my dear," she said, addressing Nansie, "there's such a lot of gossiping going on down-stairs. Ah, that's sensible of you"--as Mr. Loveday took the cup of tea she poured out for him--"there's nothing like keeping up your strength. _You_ must think of that, my dear, because of your baby. Half the neighborhood wanted to come up and see you, but I wouldn't let 'em. If I put my foot down upon one thing more than another, it's gossiping. They've found out how the fire occurred, Mr. Loveday." "How was it?" "It was that new lodger the Johnsons took in last week. He takes the room and keeps to it, and isn't known to do a stroke of work; he does nothing but drink. There was a lamp alight on the table, and some papers about. What does he do but upset the lamp, and then run away. He's drinking now at the 'Royal George.'" "He was not hurt, then?" "Not him! He had sense enough to run. Not that he could have done much good by stopping! But what I say is, he ought to be punished for it." "So ought all confirmed drunkards. Fires are not the only mischief they cause. They break hearts and ruin useful lives. I will not be long, Nansie." "What a man he is!" exclaimed the landlady, gazing after him admiringly. "There ain't another like him in all Whitechapel. Don't cry, my dear, don't cry; it won't be good for baby. With such a friend as your uncle, everything's sure to come right!" CHAPTER XXIII. Mr. Manners, the great contractor, sitting in his study at a table spread with legal documents and papers relating to his vast transactions, was informed by a man-servant that a stranger wished to see him. "Who is he?" inquired Mr. Manners. "I don't know, sir." "Did he not give you his name?" "I asked him for it, sir, and he said you did not know him, but that he came on very particular business, and must see you." "Must!" "That is what he said, sir." Mr. Manners considered a moment. He had finished the writing upon which he had been engaged, and had a few minutes' leisure. "What kind of man?" "Neither one kind nor another, sir." "What do you mean?" "That he might be a gentleman, sir, and mightn't. It's hard to say." "It generally is nowadays. Show him in." The servant retired, and, ushering in Mr. Loveday, left the room.