His lodgings were not far from the Embankment, and he knew at last that he was wandering along it, and had reached one of the bridges.  His mood led him to turn in upon it, and when he reached an embrasure to stop near it and lean upon the parapet looking down.  He could not see the water, the fog was too dense, but he could hear some faint splashing against stones.  He had taken no food and was rather faint.  What a strange thing it was to feel faint for want of food—­to stand alone, cut off from every other human being—­everything done for.  No wonder that sometimes, particularly on such days as these, there were plunges made from the parapet—­no wonder.  He leaned farther over and strained his eyes to see some gleam of water through the yellowness.  But it was not to be done.  He was thinking the inevitable thing, of course; but such a plunge would not do for him.  The other thing would destroy all traces.

As he drew back he heard something fall with the solid tinkling sound of coin on the flag pavement.  When he had been in the pawnbroker’s shop he had taken the gold from his purse and thrust it carelessly into his waistcoat pocket, thinking that it would be easy to reach when he chose to give it to one beggar or another, if he should see some wretch who would be the better for it.  Some movement he had made in bending had caused a sovereign to slip out and it had fallen upon the stones.

He did not intend to pick it up, but in the moment in which he stood looking down at it he heard close to him a shuffling movement.  What he had thought a bundle of rags or rubbish covered with sacking—­some tramp’s deserted or forgotten belongings—­was stirring.  It was alive, and as he bent to look at it the sacking divided itself, and a small head, covered with a shock of brilliant red hair, thrust itself out, a shrewd, small face turning to look up at him slyly with deep-set black eyes.

It was a human girl creature about twelve years old.

“Are yer goin’ to do it?” she said in a hoarse, street-strained voice.  “Yer would be a fool if yer did—­with as much as that on yer.”

She pointed with a reddened, chapped, and dirty hand at the sovereign.

“Pick it up,” he said.  “You may have it.”

Her wild shuffle forward was an actual leap.  The hand made a snatching clutch at the coin.  She was evidently afraid that he was either not in earnest or would repent.  The next second she was on her feet and ready for flight.

“Stop,” he said; “I’ve got more to give away.”

She hesitated—­not believing him, yet feeling it madness to lose a chance.

“More!” she gasped.  Then she drew nearer to him, and a singular change came upon her face.  It was a change which made her look oddly human.

“Gawd, mister!” she said.  “Yer can give away a quid like it was nothin’—­an’ yer’ve got more—­an’ yer goin’ to do that—­jes cos yer ’ad a bit too much lars night an’ there’s a fog this mornin’!  You take it straight from me—­don’t yer do it.  I give yer that tip for the suvrink.”