"Never—on my honour!" answered Greenwood.
They then shook hands, and parted—the gentleman continuing his way to the attic, and Greenwood hastening to leave the house.
"Wonders will never cease!" thought the latter, as he proceeded towards the cab-stand near Rowland Hill's chapel in the Blackfriars Road: "who would have thought of one of the Irish Members of Parliament living in an attic in the New Cut?"
CHAPTER CLXXXVII.
THE FORGED BILLS.
At half-past four o'clock on the following afternoon, Ellen Monroe was in the immediate vicinity of the Bank of England.
She had been to receive a small sum of money which an old debtor of her father's, residing in Birchin Lane, had written to state that he was in a condition to pay; and she was now on her return to Markham Place.
The evenings of January are obscure, if not quite dark, at that hour; and the lamps were lighted.
As she was proceeding along Lothbury, Greenwood suddenly passed her. He was walking rapidly, in a pre-occupied manner, and did not perceive her.
But she beheld him; and she turned to speak to him; for in spite of all the injuries which her parent, her benefactor Richard, and herself had sustained at his hands, he was still the father of her child!
Scarcely had she thus turned, when he drew his handkerchief from his pocket—still hurrying on towards Tokenhouse Yard.