Somewhat less than twelve years before this day on which, in obedience to Mr. Loveday's summons, he entered the bookseller's shop, Mr. Loveday turned into Church Alley, after a walk he was in the habit of taking through the markets of the East where the humble folk make their purchases for the day of rest. It was therefore Saturday night, and the hour was a little past midnight. In front of the pawnbroker's shop, at the corner of Church Alley, stood the pawnbroker himself in a state of perturbation, taking a few steps this way and a few that in an uncertain, undecided fashion. His shutters were up, and the day's business was at an end. He pounced upon Mr. Loveday, whose position then, as at present, was one of authority among his neighbors, who tacitly and willingly acknowledged him to be a man of superior stamp. "Ah, Mr. Loveday," said the pawnbroker, laying his hand on the bookseller's arm, "did you see a woman running away as you came along?" "Not that I noticed," replied Mr. Loveday, observing that something unusual was agitating the pawnbroker. "Or a man?" asked the pawnbroker. "No." "It is altogether the most extraordinary thing," said the pawnbroker, scratching his head, "the most ex-tra-or-di-na-ry. I never heard of anything like it." "Like what?" "Would you mind," said the pawnbroker, "stepping inside, and giving me your advice?" "Certainly," said Mr. Loveday. He followed the pawnbroker into the shop, and there upon the counter, in one of the divisions used by persons who came to pledge their goods or redeem them, lay an old shawl containing, as was evidenced by a gentle and regular upheaving, an animate object. "What do you think of this?" exclaimed the pawnbroker, unfolding the shawl. "A very fine baby," said Mr. Loveday, "though I don't pretend to be a judge--and fast asleep." "Proving," added the pawnbroker, "that it's been well stuffed." "Stuffed!" "Had plenty to drink--got its belly full. That's the artfulness of it." "The baby's artfulness?" inquired Mr. Loveday, much mystified. "No--of the trick that's been played upon me. Put comfortably to sleep, satisfied, so that it shouldn't excite suspicion by as much as a whimper." "But explain," said Mr. Loveday, as much in the dark as ever. "Is it your baby?" "No, sir," replied the pawnbroker, energetically, "it is not." "Then how comes it here?" "That's what I'd like to know. If you'll believe me, Mr. Loveday, I'll tell you all about it--no, not all, as much I as know myself." "Of course I'll believe you," said Mr. Loveday, his interest growing fast.