"Move on there! What are you lurking about here for?"
"All right, goin' 'ome, just met yer brother along there."
"He's not my brother," said the constable gruffly.
"Thought yer were all brothers, members of the same cloth, anyhow yer all good sorts. Good-night."
"Be off home," said the constable, as he went on his way; and a second man lost a chance of promotion that night.
"I must not run any more risks," thought the man, "but I'm glad I crossed the road and looked in at that window. She suffers, she could not have heard my voice, perhaps an internal justice carried it to her and my words were whispered in her ears—such things have been known. There she sits, feasting, surrounded by every comfort, but she's not happy, she never will be, such women never are. God, to think what I have gone through for her, what I have suffered! I have lived in hell, in purgatory, and I ought to be on my way to heavenly peace. God, give me a chance; I am an innocent man and You know it."
"Hallo, mate, where goin'? Yer a late bird," said Brack, as he knocked against the man walking in a curiously wild way in the middle of the road.
"Goin' 'ome," said the man.
"That'll not get over me; yer puttin' it on. I'm fra Yorkshire, and a bit too cute for that."
"What d'yer mean?"