“I’m come from Mrs. Clover’s, sir,” said this messenger, touching his hat.  “She’d be very glad to see you as soon as you could make it convenient to look round.”

“Is that all?”

That was all; nothing more could be learnt from the young man, and Gammon promised to come forthwith.  Luckily he could absent himself from Quodlings’ to-day with no great harm; so after a few words with Mrs. Bubb he pulled on his greatcoat and set off by the speediest way.  Only after starting did he remember his promise to Polly.  That could not be helped.  The case seemed to be urgent, and he must beg for indulgence.  He had an appointment with Polly for six o’clock this evening.  In the excitement of decisive action (it being the last day of the year) she would probably overlook this small matter.

He found Mrs. Clover in the shop.  She reddened at sight of him, and after a hurried greeting asked him to step into the parlour, where she carefully closed the door.

“Mr. Gammon, have you heard anything about my husband?”

The question disconcerted him; he tried ineffectually to shape a denial.

“You have, I can see you have!  It doesn’t matter.  I don’t want you to tell me anything.  But he’s now in this house.”

She was greatly agitated, not angry, but beset by perplexities and distress.

“He came last night about ten o’clock—­came to the door wrapped up like a stranger—­it was almost too much for me when I heard his voice.  He wanted to come in—­to stay; and of course I let him.  Minnie had to know, poor girl.  He’s in the spare room.  Did you know he meant to come?”

“I?  Hadn’t an idea of it, Mrs. Clover!”

“But you know something about him.  He tells me you do.  He wants to see you.  There’s only one thing I ask—­has he been doing wrong?  Oh, do tell me that!”

Gammon protested that he knew nothing of the kind, and added that he had only seen the man once, for a minute, now more than a month ago.

“And you kept it from me!” said his friend reproachfully.  “I didn’t think you’d have done that, Mr. Gammon!”

“There was a reason.  I shouldn’t have thought of doing it if there hadn’t been a good reason.”

“Never mind.  I won’t interfere.  I feel as if it had nothing to do with me.  Will you go upstairs to him?  He looks to me as if he hadn’t very long to live, indeed he does.  Listen, that’s his cough!  Oh, I am so upset.  It came so sudden.  And to think you’d seen him and never told me!  Never mind, go up to him, if you will, and see what he wants with you.”

Gammon did her bidding.  He ascended lightly and tapped at the door Mrs. Clover indicated.  A cough sounded from within; then a voice which the visitor recognized, saying,” Come in.”  On the bed, but fully dressed, lay a tall, meagre man, with a woollen comforter about his neck.  The room was in good order, and warmed by a fire, which the sufferer’s condition seemed to make very necessary.  He fixed his eyes on Gammon, as if trying to smile, but defeated in the effort by pain and misery.