of the bar, through the sitting-room, preceded, or soon followed,
by Green and Slade. At any hour of the night, up to one or two,
and sometimes three o'clock, you can see light streaming through
the rent in a curtain drawn before a particular window, which I
know to be in the room of Harvey Green. These are facts, sir; and
you can draw your own conclusion. I think it a very serious
matter."

"Why does Slade go out with these young men?" I inquired. "Do you
think he gambles also?"

"If he isn't a kind of a stool-pigeon for Harvey Green, then I'm
mistaken again."

"Hardly. He cannot, already, have become so utterly unprincipled."

"It's a bad school, sir, this tavern-keeping," said the man.

"I readily grant you that."

"And it's nearly seven years since he commenced to take lessons. A
great deal may be learned, sir, of good or evil, in seven years,
especially if any interest be taken in the studies."

"True."

"And it's true in this case, you may depend upon it. Simon Slade
is not the man he was, seven years ago. Anybody with half an eye
can see that. He's grown selfish, grasping, unscrupulous, and
passionate. There could hardly be a greater difference between men