tumbled out into the road. The latter rose to his feet, indignant, abusive, walking-stick upraised. The 'ricksha boy walked quietly to a lamp-post and leant against it. He measured the other man up and down with his eyes. The stoutish, overcoated figure was Allerton; the voice was Allerton's; the face with its angry eyes belonged to Allerton; and the menacing attitude was simply Allerton out of temper with an inferior.

The 'ricksha boy sank down upon the edge of the pavement. He was still breathless. He wrapped his arms round his knees, laid his face down upon them, and said, "Catchee other piecee licksha boy. My no can do."

"Nonsense," said Allerton, his first rush of words over. "We're very near the house now. Come along."

"No can do," said the boy. "Catchee other piecee--" He shifted his face unwarily, and the lamplight fell upon it. He saw Allerton looking at him intently, and their eyes met. "Other piecee licksha boy."

Allerton advanced towards him, knocked cap and queue from his head, stared again, and said “George!"

"Go away!" cried Fielding, his voice almost a shriek, "I'm nearly through with it now. I'm nearly done. You wouldn't pull me back? You wouldn't add that to your cruelty?"

Allerton took him by the shoulder, saying, "Don't. Don't!" And George Fielding laid himself down upon the curb-stone and hid his face.

That night there went a wild tale through Shanghai that a foreigner had been seen pulling a 'ricksha in which sat a coolie. But the thing seemed so improbable that no sane person gave credence to it.

Fielding came to himself to find that he was entering a house with a Chinese servant on one side of him and Aller

ton on the other. They went into a lighted room and he leant up against a tall piece of furniture, laid his head back against it and closed his eyes. The face of the Chinese boy was so full of curiosity that Allerton dismissed him, and then stood waiting for Fielding to speak.

"Now, how does There was a table

The floor heaved beneath Fielding's feet, and he held on tight to the bookcase behind him. "We're on board ship," he thought. that come about?" laid for dinner in the middle of the room. "It's not very rough or they'd have put on the fiddles, and there's Allerton; he doesn't seem to feel it. No, it isn't a ship."

He was extremely puzzled to know not only where he was but who he was. He had thought that he was George Fielding, abandoned by his friend who had now come back to him. But as soon as he had decided this point, and had begun to repeat to himself "George Fielding," in order to get the fact established in his mind, the word "Ah-sing" flew to his brain. His left foot hurt him. He stooped and looked at the cut, since the floor had stopped rolling, and dabbed it with his little towel. He turned and read the names of the books upon the shelves, and that brought him back to George Fielding again. He was utterly bewildered, for he knew that he ought not to be able to read English while his fingers played in the meshes of the 'ricksha boy's towel. With a gleam of enlightenment he remembered the stewing over the cauldron of onions in Wu's hut. Half of this double life was a reality, the other half a dream. The vital point was, which was life and which nightmare? It semed to him that George Fielding was the older, and had a better right. He put his hand up to his forehead, saying aloud, "Wu should have fed me, and then I shouldn't have been so light-headed."

Allerton was genuinely distressed, but he had sense enough to give nature a free hand when she demanded it, and forebore to worry Fielding into activity, though he was most anxious to bring the episode to a close. After about four days of sleep Fielding awoke, much rested and tolerably clearheaded. He dressed with wonder at the cunning of his hands, and presented himself before Allerton.

"So here you are! Feeling better?" "Oh, I'm all right, but still a bit mixed. There are lots of things I want to ask you."

A shadow went over Allerton's face.

"Don't worry yourself with asking questions yet," he said. "It will all come back to you very soon."

"Yes, but there are two or three things that I want to know. For instance, is it morning or afternoon?" "Afternoon. Four o'clock." "How long have I been asleep?" "Since Saturday. This is Wednesday."

"A record, I should think. What month is this?"

"March."

"March. And you went away in the autumn,-October, I believe. Allerton, before I try to disentangle things, I must tell you how disgustingly I've misjudged you. I thought that you had left me in the lurch and never meant to come back again. I imagined you living comfortably somewhere, with no thought of me. I didn't mean to do you an injustice, but the time seeemed so long-like years and years. Can it only be five months?"

Allerton looked at the pinched face with its furrowed brow and vague eyes, and thought that a fib would be safe.

"That's all," he said. "But I don't doubt it seemed long. Of course I world have come before if I could." "Old man, I ought never to have

doubted it. I ought to have known you better."

Again the shadow crossed Allerton's face. He had come to Shanghai upon his own business, and it is probable that his sluggard conscience would have slept until the crack of doom awoke it had he not chanced to step into Fielding's 'ricksha. Some day Fielding would know it all, and would realize how basely he had been deserted. As soon as he looked at a newspaper and began to remember dates he must learn the truth; but Allerton devoutly hoped that this might not happen until after they had parted. He could not meet his friend's eyes for very shame, and the sight of the bewildered face hurt him acutely. He was half-minded to throw himself upon his knees, confess, apologize, tell how he loathed himself, and that he would never be able to hold up his head again until he had been pardoned. But a meaner feeling restrained him, whispering that there was really no need to do all this when a fib would save his self-respect.

"It's very odd," said Fielding. "I could have been certain that there had been two Christmases. And I remember two sowings and two harvests. Strange what tricks one's brain can play!" He stood looking down upon the hearth-rug. "When I was a boy," he said, "I remember reading a story about a man who somehow got shut up inside a tomb, and he couldn't get out or make anybody hear. And it seemed to him that he was there for days and days-since he had no way of measuring time and he nearly starved. And then he found a candleend in his pocket-though why people should go about with candle-ends in their pockets I can't imagine!-and he ate that, and it kept him going for perhaps another day. At last his friends came to look for him, and found him inside the tomb. And how long d'you

think he had been there?-about five or six hours!" And he began to laugh.

Allerton had another struggle with himself. At that moment the liar's purgatory was his, but he could not face its burning gateway to get out of it. So he went on with his lie. "Just so! A parallel case! Lose count of time even for a moment, and waiting seems like ages."

He got

"It did. And if you hadn't assured me that it was only five months I shouldn't have been surprised to hear that it had been two years." Allerton moved uneasily. up and fetched a match-box. Fielding looked round the room. "Why, there's that bookcase," he said. "Now, where have I seen that before. Oh, that night, I suppose, when I first got here. And the carpet, too."

His left foot was bootless. He lifted it and felt the sole tenderly with his hand.

"Have you hurt yourself?"

"Yes, cut my foot. But it's better. It'll be all right now that I can keep it clean."

"How did you do it?" Allerton asked, his eyes watching narrowly.

"Can't think. Running. But that's absurd, running without a boot! But I was running, I know I was." Не put his hand to his chest as if he were breathless, felt upon his arm for the coolie's little towel, and then pushed his hand up his sleeve for a handkerchief. "I know I've been ill. I'm quite sure of that, and I may have crocked up worse than I know, and all the mad dreams-ha, ha!"

"Sit down," said Allerton, rising. Whiffs of memory, tantalizing, evasive, floated by just out of his reach. He laid all his faculties upon the trail, but with no success. "I nearly had it that time," he said. "A lamp-post somewhere, and a very cold pavement. But it's gone. How absurd it all is.

Oh, Allerton, I'd give something to know where I've been and what I've been doing during these last five months!"

"Don't try to think," Allerton said anxiously. "Leave it all alone, and in a few days' time you will remember everything. Now I want to know what you are going to do. Don't you want to go home?"

"Home?" The longing of all those months sounded in his voice.

"Yes. Are you going home, or are you going to live out here?"

“Allerton, I've nothing in the world but what I stand up in, and that belongs to you!"

"Nonsense, you remember our compact? That the one who got work first was to help the other." (Words forgotten until this moment came into his mind, "Not a pipeful of tobacco until the two are reunited.") "Well, I've got a billet. I'm arranged for. I can take your passage home and give you a cheque for fifty."

"I shall be able to pay you back, but it will be a matter of time."

"No need. The first to get work was bound to help the other. Have you forgotten?" Fielding had forgotten completely. "So you see I am bound to provide for you. We both agreed about it at the time."

"Thank you, Allerton. Then I'll take it and be grateful to leave these happy shores. What about yourself? You found something to do pretty soon, I suppose?"

Allerton had dropped into an excellent billet the very day that he arrived in Hong Kong.

"Yes, pretty soon," he said, "Of course I had to work hard, but I'm all right now. I can get on."

The door opened, and a Chinese boy said glibly, "Piecee Chinaman wanchee talkee master."

"Who is it?" "No savvy."

"Show him in."

Wu entered, newly shaved and plaited and dressed in his best. He bowed vigorously to both men, and then renewed his bows towards Fielding. Some half-recollection of him began to tease Fielding, and Allerton closely watched his friend's puzzled, irritated face.

"Yes, yes. I seem to know you. What is it?"

Wu said that his poor feet were not worthy to enter this hall of light, this palace of the august ones, and that it was only the smile of Fielding's face (which was very grave) that gave him courage. He went on to wish Fielding ten thousand happinesses, ten thousand riches, long life, and sons to worship at his grave.

"I

"Funny thing," said Fielding. didn't think that I knew so much Chinese. I can understand everything that he says. He's congratulating me upon something,-my recovery to health, I think."

Wu's face seemed to grow more and more familiar, and Fielding suddenly said, "He reminds me of onions! How or why I can't imagine, but it's a most unpleasant recollection, and I hope that I shall never see him again. Have you two sovereigns on you? Would you give them to me? I feel that I'm under some obligation to him, though I can't think what it can be. He must have done something to help me in my shady past!"

He rose to his feet.

"How the smell of onions haunts me! -boiling onions, bubbling and steaming like the very pit!-a hell of onions and hot steam and damp wrappings!" "I wish you'd sit down!"

Allerton pushed him into a chair and then handed a couple of notes to the Chinese, with a curt nod.

Wu went down upon his hands and knees and touched the ground with his forehead. Ah-sing had paid for his

A wave of enlightenment came over him. He glanced at his feet as if he expected to see the rope-sandals, and looked into the palms of his hardened hands.

"You may keep the 'ricksha, old uncle, as a reward for all your care of me, and if I have paid you well, requite it to some other poor one."

Down went Wu's head again upon the floor. Fielding turned to Allerton.

"You were only just about in time," he said. "I've been pulling a 'ricksha!" And he did not know that Allerton was already aware of this.

anything. Now take care of yourself, and try to pick up on the way home. Good-bye."

"Good-bye, old man, good-bye!"

Once more the water, opal-colored, uncertain, beautiful, widened between them. Fielding remembered its alluring murmur as he had heard it from Wu's back-garden; it sang another song today. A stiff breeze blew up river and he buttoned his coat. Flags were flying from the offices on the Bund; the little trees were tossing their branches. 'Rickshas passed swiftly along the level road in an unending procession; barrowmen trundled slowly. And Fielding remembered that he was a man again -no longer a toiling ant, but free to journey across the world.

He did not open his pocket-book until next morning, when he handed over his ticket. Allerton had tipped heavily on board the tender, and Fielding's needs were supplied almost before he was conscious of them. He sat on deck in a long chair, watching a steamer passing by. The good sea air blew up at him, buffeting his face and filling his lungs. The long even roll soothed him as if he had been a child in a cradle rocked by a mother's hand. His face was lined and his hair was rather gray, but there was a deep contentment in his eyes and in the set of his lips.

He took out the pocket-book and opened it. There was an envelope from Allerton. It was too thick to contain only a cheque, and he wondered what Allerton had found it necessary to write about. As he tore

it open the deck-steward appeared, saying, "Eleven o'clock, sir. Take a cup of beef-tea?"

"It would be rather a good idea," he answered, wondering what Wu would have thought of three square meals aday and beef-tea at eleven, and how many of China's starving population could be supported on the food thrown

over the stern of the ship at the end of the day. When the man returned to take away the cup, Fielding watched his clean capable face for the mere satisfaction of looking at an Englishman. The steward tucked a rug round his knees, put a box of matches within reach, and went away. Fielding lit a cigar in slow luxury and then opened the envelope. The cheque came out first; it was written for a hundred pounds.

"Now Allerton oughtn't to have done that, even if he could have afforded it. He's much too good. He shall have half of it back again." He read the letter

It's a

My dear Fielding,-I've got to write to you, and don't know how to do it. Look at the date of this letter and then remember the date when we came down the Yangtze, to Shanghai. year and five months. I don't know how it happened that I never wrote to you or sent you any money. Driver took me on first thing, and I've been getting a good screw all the time. Then I met his daughter, and very soon we were engaged, and I had to work jolly hard or Driver would never have had me for a son-in-law. We're married now. I think I forgot you at first, and then when I remembered I took it for granted that you were all right, for I knew that you always fell on your feet. But I loathe myself for what I have done. If you ever feel that you can forgive me, do let me have a line, for I am miserable about it: I suppose you think that after the way I've behaved I shan't care what happens to you, but I should like to hear that you get home safely and well. You must think what you will. You can't think worse of me than I do of myself. Good-bye, Fielding.-Yours, F. Allerton.

Fielding sat very still with an extinct cigar in his hand.