Even the weary shopmen and shop-girls, released from the day’s labours, hurried past him homeward, and the sleepy cabman whipped up his horse for his last fare before going home, and the tramps and beggars vanished down their alleys, and sought every man his home.
Home! The word had no meaning to-night for Reginald as he watched the streets empty, and found himself a solitary wayfarer in the deserted thoroughfares.
The hum of traffic ceased. One by one the bedroom lights went out, the clocks chimed midnight clearly in the frosty air, and still he wandered on.
He passed a newspaper-office, where the thunder of machinery and the glare of the case-room reminded him of his own bitter apprenticeship at the Rocket. They might find him a job here if he applied. Faugh! who would take a gaol-bird, a “let-off” swindler, into their employ?
He strolled down to the docks. The great river lay asleep. The docks were, deserted; the dockyards silent. Only here and there a darting light, or the distant throb of an engine, broke the slumber of the scene.
A man came up to him as he stood on the jetty.
“Now then, sheer off; do you hear?” he said. “What do you want here?”
“Mayn’t I watch the river?” said Reginald.
“Not here. We’ve had enough of your sort watching the river. Off you go,” and he laid his hand on the boy’s collar and marched him off the pier.
Of course! Who had not had enough of his sort? Who would not suspect him wherever he went? Cain went about with a mark on his forehead for every one to know him by. In what respect was he better off, when men seemed to know by instinct and in the dark that he was a character to mistrust and suspect?