Having assured himself that his wife was upstairs, he proceeded to carry out his plan. The toy was made of rags, painted and moulded to the shape of a horse. So he made an incision in the belly, and, thrusting in his finger, formed a hole. Then, with a hasty glance round, he opened the red pocket-book and produced therefrom a Bill of Exchange, which he folded up into a compass as small as possible. This he thrust into the hole, pulled the interior stuffing over it, and using his wife's needle, sewed up the hole with considerable despatch and dexterity. A few white threads were still sufficiently noticeable to arouse suspicion, so he rubbed his hand on the sooty grate and blackened the rent. So neatly was all this done that no one would have guessed that the toy had been opened. Jenner laughed, and tossed the horse on to the table where the child had left it. "That's all right," he said. "She'll never part with anything belonging to the boy." He looked over the table to see if any food remained. Finding none, he swore a little and sat down by the fire, upon which he had heaped all the fuel he could find. There he brooded, chin in hand, thinking of his past, dreading the days to come. CHAPTER II. THE STILL FORM IN THE HOUSE. In a quarter of an hour Mrs. Jenner returned. She looked at the empty table, at the heaped up fuel in the grate, and finally her gaze of loathing and of scorn fell upon the figure by the fire. "Still the same selfish brute," she said, resuming her seat and her work. "My child and I are almost starving, almost without a fire; yet you devour our small portion and burn our sticks. And why not? What do our pains matter to you, so long as you are comfortable?" "I have had more discomfort than you," grumbled her husband, avoiding her contemptuous eyes. "Had you been in prison----" "I would never have come near those whom I had disgraced," she finished swiftly, and went on with her stitching. The culprit writhed. "Lizzie," he said, "do not be too hard on me. I have sinned, but I have been punished. You might forgive me now." "Never!" said the wife, curtly, and the expression of her eyes told him that she fully meant what she said. "How hard women can be." "Women," remarked Mrs. Jenner, shifting the work on her knee, "are what men make them. You behaved to me like the brute that you are; you cannot blame me, then, if I treat you according to your nature. I live for our child--to make amends for what you have done. Therefore, I have an object in life. Had I not, I would gladly die; and I would gain death--a shameful death--by killing you." The terrible intensity of her gaze made the guilty wretch shiver. "I will make it up to you," he said, feebly. "Not you. You will go on just the same--that is if I will let you--and that I don't intend to do." "I shall have money soon--plenty of money."