"Very right; very proper. I quite agree with her. You should start your married life with an absolutely clean sheet, Alan." The young man nodded, and as he left the inn he delivered himself of one warning. "Whatever you do, keep your eye on Joe Brill," he said significantly. "Why--why? What for?" "Because I fancy he knows a good deal more than he is inclined to tell," replied Alan. Then, without further comment, he drove off, leaving the Rector considerably bewildered at this abrupt interpolation of a fresh name into the persons of the drama. Meanwhile, Alan caught his train, and in due time, or a very fair approach to it, arrived in London. He took a hasty lunch at Waterloo, and drove to Westminster Bridge. Here he dismissed his cab, and set about inquiring for Dixon's Rents. The slum--its name was highly suggestive of its being such--appeared to be well known. The first constable he asked was both familiar with and communicative about it. "It's within easy distance of Lambeth Palace, sir," he said. "A bit rough by night, but you'll be all right there in the daytime. Ask any constable near by the Palace, sir, and he'll put you right. Thank you, sir." Alan left the officer of the law well pleased with his unlooked-for half-crown, and walked on towards the Palace. The second constable could not leave his beat, but the bestowal of another half-crown elicited from him the practical suggestion that a certain young shoeblack of repute should act as guide. The shoeblack was quite near at hand, and very shortly was enrolled as guide for the occasion. Together he and Alan started off, leaving the constable well content, though withal a trifle mystified, not to say curious. The shoeblack led the way, and Alan followed closely. They turned away from the river into a mass of houses, where the streets became more and more squalid, and the population more and more ragged and unkempt. At length, after many twistings and turnings, they arrived at the entrance to a narrow cul-de-sac, and he was informed that this was his destination. He rewarded and dismissed the shoeblack, and proceeded down the dirty lane. Almost the first person he saw was a tall woman standing at the entrance of the court, closely veiled. She seemed to be hesitating whether she would come on or not. Then, suddenly, she threw up her veil. As she did so Alan uttered an exclamation of surprise. It was Mrs. Warrender! CHAPTER VII. IN DIXON'S RENTS. At the sound of Alan's voice Mrs. Warrender started like a guilty thing. He was astonished beyond measure at finding her in the same unsavory neighborhood as himself, bound, for all he knew, on the same errand. At all events, it was surely more than a coincidence that she should be on the threshold of Gramp's dwelling, so to speak. "Mrs. Warrender," he said, gravely lifting his hat, "this is indeed a surprise. Of course, you know what has happened at Heathton?"