The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1892-07-03
PART 1.
CHAPTER I.
my hand against every man,
Every mans hand against me-"

Every mans hand against me-"
A dreary, disreputabie alley hidden away
from the broader thoroughfares by that
endless tangle OF courts and passages which
make up SO great part Of the cobweb city
of London; in the most dreary, tumble
down house of the many huddled together
in the narrow space. in a room which
scarcely deserved the name, so bare was it
of anything like approaching attention TO
comfort or care of appearances, and open
lug direct in the street, man sitting in one
of the broken chairs the apartment boasted
his arms resting on the rickerty table in
front of him, his head dropping in his
hands.
He must have been so sitting for some lit
tie time, for though it was getting on to
midday, tray close beside him, bearing a
plate OF bread and meat and cup Of now
half cold tea evidently intended for his
breakfast, remained untouched.
At first glance one might have imagined
that he slept. But second aud closer one
would have convinced a keen observer that
the attitude was not one Of slumber but
rather of thought; deep agitate
thought: for the elbows were
pressed hard upon the table, the hands not
only hid the face, but were clenched over 1t ,
as if even though he was alone, the think er
did not wish his features to shew forth what
was In his mind.
This idea of his pre-occupation was conn
firmed, when at the sound of a knock at
the door behind him opening into the street
"a second one led into an inner room in
which was low bed, which again opened
on to a narrow dark staircase, ascending
doubtless into the upper part of the house
caused him TO rise to his feet, dropping
his hands. But although he thus got up, it
was a singular thing that there was none Of
that brief surprise and fear which usually
accompanies a sudden call from abstraction
TO self
One felt instiuotively that be had not only
iron nerves but had learnt to turn them to
account. It was only little thing perhaps
and yet, somehow, it made one mistrust
him, for even he who has nothing 10 hide
often looks guilty. One felt somehow in
stinctively that such composure was a habit
of skilltul training, not only for use in such
slight instances as this, but In Others where
a greater interest might be at stake.
A start in most people will often tell its
own tale. This very comPosure revealed q
whole history.
The action Of rising itself revealed some
thing else. 1t showed him to be of medium
hight-lightly built-althOugh more 1.-the
than thin, and with an indesCribable some
thing about him which betrayed a better
mould than that to which his dress and sur
roundings lowered him. IL might have
been the arch Of the instep in the ill-made
boot, or the shape and color OF the hand
which came from out the rough coat sleeve
not small, but perfectly shaped. and sing
ularly white above the wrist, though stained
and soiled at the fingers and palms-or,
perhaps, that one trait which above ali
others betrays grade-the carriage of the
whole body-whlch no adjuncts Of poverty
could hide.
In carrying the inspection from the body
to the face, however, one forgot to continue
the query, taking instead one Of far greater
interest Every living soul is Of course the
hero or heroine of a tale, but there are some
who make the facts forgotten-some whose
story in no way tells itself in word, or look,
or action.
This man was far from being one of these.
He belonged to the opposite clsss-whose
faces are not only the windows of their
minds, but the indexes of their lives.
Looking into his face, you knew not only
that be had history but that that history
was one of man whose mortal cup Of bit
terness had once been very full. and had
been drained down to the very dregs.
This. for good or evill
Because Of that strange power over self
1t was impossible to say. Evil 1t did not
seem 1t could be. for in the lines in the fore
head, and the steady gaze Of the deep-set,
gray eyes, there were indications of great
pain and sorrow lived down. But yet il
dii not seem good-for the mouth had a
trick Of setting like vice, an entire oon-
aradiction OF the droOp of the finely curved
APPS, telling Of obstinate perseverance,, de-
lpite remorse.
The whole countenance was in itself rid.
Gle. none the less SO that the gazer felt as
sured that it was true reflection of the
heart-that greatest of all enigmas, TO all
save its Creator.
In mould, the features were prepossessing,
or would have been had the owner had his
fair share of the good things of this life.
1t was not that it told of want, but rather
of lack-not of appetite, but a want &c
eat-whlch was not exactly nOn-deslre &c
live. 1t was the shadow of such look as
starving mans face might wear, when food
and hangman's rope were placed together
before him.
The man was plainly healthy and strong
Of limb, despite the slghtness of his figure.
Yet, one felt that had be "a quiet mind TO lei
him enjoy both, his features would have
eyinced their claim to no Insignificant type
TO which the benevolence, dignity and in
telligence which were now, II not lost
at least obscured, would have given wonder.
tul charm.
As he moved to the door, he evinced YET
another contradiction. His tread wal
swift but light, the sort Of tread which &C.
casion can make distinctly catlike, and vel
the gesture with which he shook back of
his face the handful of gray hair which had
fallen over it, had il it every motion Of the
movement Of the higher breed-the impa-