ker went to the door and made it fast, giving a careless
glance round the dimly lighted shop as he did so.

"Perhaps you could stay to-night yourself," he said, as he returned to
the sitting-room.

"I can't possibly, to-night," said the other. "By the way, you might
lend me a pistol of some kind. With all these cut-throats hanging round,
visiting you is a somewhat perilous pleasure. They might take it into
their heads to kill me to see whether I have got the stone."

"Take your pick," said the pawnbroker, going to the shop and returning
with two or three secondhand revolvers and some cartridges.

"I never fired one in my life," said Levi dubiously, "but I believe the
chief thing is to make a bang. Which'll make the loudest?"

On his friend's recommendation he selected a revolver of the service
pattern, and, after one or two suggestions from the pawnbroker,
expressed himself as qualified to shoot anything between a chimney-pot
and a paving-stone.

"Make your room-door fast to-night, and tomorrow let Bob have a bed
there," he said earnestly, as he rose to go. "By the way, why not make
those chalk marks on the door just for the night? You can laugh at them
to-morrow. Sort of suggestion of the Passover about it, isn't there?"

"I'm not going to mark my door for all the assassins that ever
breathed," said the Jew fiercely, as he rose to see the other out.

"Well, I think you're safe enough in the house," said Levi. "Beastly
dreary the shop looks. To a man of imagination like myself it's quite
easy to fancy that there is one of your brown friend's pet devils
crouching under the counter ready to spring."

The pawnbroker grunted and opened the door.

"<DW30>, fog," said Levi, as a cloud streamed in. "Bad night for pistol
practice. I shan't be able to hit anything."

The two men stood in the doorway for a minute, trying to peer through
the fog. A heavy, measured tread sounded in the alley; a huge figure
loomed up, and, to the relief of Levi, a constable halted before them.

"Thick night, sir," said he to the pawnbroker.

