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and away by Saint Giles’s to Tottenham Court Road； at the back of
which； upon the western side； was then a place called the Green
Lanes。 This was a retired spot； not of the choicest kind； leading
into the fields。 Great heaps of ashes； stagnant pools； overgrown
with rank grass and duckweed； broken turnstiles； and the upright
posts of palings long since carried off for firewood； which menaced
all heedless walkers with their jagged and rusty nails； were the
leading features of the landscape： while here and there a donkey；
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or a ragged horse； tethered to a stake； and cropping off a wretched
meal from the coarse stunted turf； were quite in keeping with the
scene； and would have suggested （if the houses had not done so；
sufficiently； of themselves） how very poor the people were who
lived in the crazy huts adjacent； and how foolhardy it might prove
for one who carried money； or wore decent clothes； to walk that
way alone； unless by daylight。
Poverty has its whims and shows of taste； as wealth has。 Some
of these cabins were turreted； some had false windows painted on
their rotten walls； one had a mimic clock； upon a crazy tower of
four feet high； which screened the chimney； each in its little patch
of ground had a rude seat or arbour。 The population dealt in
bones； in rags； in broken glass； in old wheels； in birds； and dogs。
These； in their several ways of stowage； filled the gardens； and
shedding a perfume； not of the most delicious nature； in the air；
filled it besides with yelps； and screams； and howling。
Into this retreat； the secretary followed the two men whom he
had held in sight； and here he saw them safely lodged； in one of
the meanest houses； which was but a room； and that of small
dimensions。 He waited without； until the sound of their voices；
joined in a discordant song； assured him they were making merry；
and then approaching the door； by means of a tottering plank
which crossed the ditch in front； knocked at it with his hand。
‘Muster Gashford！’ said the man who opened it； taking his pipe
from his mouth； in evident surprise。 ‘Why； who’d have thought of
this here honour！ Walk in； Muster Gashford—walk in； sir。’
Gashford required no second invitation； and entered with a
gracious air。 There was a fire in the rusty grate （for though the
spring was pretty far advanced； the nights were cold）； and on a
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stool beside it Hugh sat smoking。 Dennis placed a chair； his only
one； for the secretary； in front of the hearth； and took his seat
again upon the stool he had left when he rose to give the visitor
admission。
‘What’s in the wind now； Muster Gashford？’ he said； as he
resumed his pipe； and looked at him askew。 ‘Any orders from
head…quarters？ Are we going to begin？ What is it； Muster
Gashford？’
‘Oh； nothing； nothing；’ rejoined the secretary； with a friendly
nod to Hugh。 ‘We have broken the ice； though。 We had a little
spurt to…day—eh； Dennis？’
‘A very little one；’ growled the hangman。 ‘Not half enough for
me。’
‘Nor me neither！’ cried Hugh。 ‘Give us something to do with life
in it—with life in it； master。 Ha； ha！’
‘Why； you wouldn’t；’ said the secretary； with his worst
expression of face； and in his mildest tones； ‘have anything to do；
with—with death in it？’
‘I don’t know that；’ replied Hugh。 ‘I’m open to orders。 I don’t
care； not I。’
‘Nor I！’ vociferated Dennis。
‘Brave fellows！’ said the secretary； in as pastor…like a voice as if
he were commending them for some uncommon act of valour and
generosity。 ‘By the bye’—and here he stopped and warmed his
hands： then suddenly looked up—‘who threw that stone to…day？’
Mr Dennis coughed and shook his head； as who should say； ‘A
mystery indeed！’ Hugh sat and smoked in silence。
‘It was well done！’ said the secretary； warming his hands again。
‘I should like to know that man。’
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‘Would you？’ said Dennis； after looking at his face to assure
himself that he was serious。 ‘Would you like to know that man；
Muster Gashford？’
‘I should indeed；’ replied the secretary。
‘Why then； Lord love you；’ said the hangman； in his hoarsest
chuckle； as he pointed with his pipe to Hugh； ‘there he sits。 That’s
the man。 My stars and halters； Muster Gashford；’ he added in a
whisper； as he drew his stool close to him and jogged him with his
elbow； ‘what a interesting blade he is！ He wants as much holding
in as a thorough…bred bulldog。 If it hadn’t been for me to…day； he’d
have had that ’ere Roman down； and made a riot of it； in another
minute。’
‘And why not？’ cried Hugh in a surly voice； as he overheard this
last remark。 ‘Where’s the good of putting things off？ Strike while
the iron’s hot； that’s what I say。’
‘Ah！’ retorted Dennis； shaking his head； with a kind of pity for
his friend’s ingenuous youth； ‘but suppose the iron an’t hot；
brother！ You must get people’s blood up afore you strike； and have
’em in the humour。 There wasn’t quite enough to provoke ’em to…
day； I tell you。 If you’d had your way； you’d have spoilt the fun to
come； and ruined us。’
‘Dennis is quite right；’ said Gashford； smoothly。 ‘He is perfectly
correct。 Dennis has great knowledge of the world。’
‘I ought to have； Muster Gashford； seeing what a many people
I’ve helped out of it； eh？’ grinned the hangman； whispering the
words behind his hand。
The secretary laughed at this jest as much as Dennis could
desire； and when he had done； said； turning to Hugh：
‘Dennis’s policy was m