The man spoke in a slow monotone.

"Its all right, and I'm there arter all. I've swoor, and Ive drunk, and
yet arter all I'm forgiven. That's because I prayed at the very last
minute, an' He heerd me. The angel hasn't got no wings like what they
talked about, but that don't matter; I'm here, and safe, and I'll meet
the old woman when her time comes, and no error; but it ain't no thanks
to _me_."

Then the remarkable theologian drew a heavy sigh of gladness, and passed
into torpor again. Tom Lennard, in a stage whisper which was calculated
to soothe a sick man much as the firing of cannon might, said--

"Well, of all the what's-his-names, that beats every book that ever
was."

Tears were standing in the lady's sweet eyes, and there was something
hypocritical in the startling cough whereby Thomas endeavoured to pose
as a hard and seasoned old medical character.

Meanwhile Ferrier was slung on board the smack which hailed first, and
his education was continued with a vengeance.

"Down there, sir!"

Lewis got half way down when a rank waft of acrid and mephitic air met
him and half-choked him. He struggled on, and when he found his bearings
by the dim and misty light he sat down on a locker and gasped. The
atmosphere was heated to a cruel and almost dangerous pitch, and the
odour!--oh, Zola! if I dared! A groan from a darkened corner sounded