and he became a vagrant here and was sent to Bilibid Prison. Much of my
work is in prisons, and I took charge of him when he got out and sent him
to the Sailors' Home, sure that he would be able to get a ship again.
That was a couple of months ago, and when I arrived to-day he met me and
told me that he had left the Home because the keeper was prejudiced
against him, owing to his term in prison.

"He was on the verge of starvation, and I gave him some money from my
charity fund, which he promptly spent on drink, for he is quite
dissolute. But he took charge of my luggage and attended to some errands
for me, but he fears the police and cannot get out of his habit of
skulking about, and, as the detectives have hounded him, he is suspicious
of everybody, and ready to go into a panic when a stranger approaches
him. It is a pity that he cannot get back to sea, but he has had the
fever, and no master seems to want him, and he has been forced into
vagabondage."

He gave me this history of the little red-headed man in disconnected
sentences while we were at the soup, and I let him run on. As he talked
his eyes were roaming over the room, and he scanned every person that
entered, and peered at me from under his brows when he thought I was not
observing him.

It was plausible enough, but I could not forget that Meeker and the
little sailor were together a great deal, and whenever I had seen them
they were acting suspiciously, and both of them had kept close watch upon
me. Neither had he explained away the fact that he had told me I could
not buy a ticket in the _Kut Sang_, which I did; nor the fact that he had
his own ticket when he told me that, nor the false telephone message for
the obvious purpose of making me miss the steamer, and then his getting