 about Clara's
family. The Hewetts were now living in another part of Clerkenwell, but there
was no hostility between them and the Peckovers. Was anything to be gained by
keeping up intimacy with them? Joseph, after further musing, decided that it
would be just as well to do so; suppose Clem called upon them and presented the
husband of whom she was so proud? He would like, if possible, to hear a little
more about their daughter; an idea he had - never mind exactly what. So this
call was paid, and in a few weeks Joseph had established an acquaintance with
John Hewett.
    Sidney, on his part, had a difficulty in coming to definite conclusions
respecting Jane's father. Of course he was prejudiced against the man, and
though himself too little acquainted with the facts of the case to distinguish
Joseph's motives, he felt that the middle-aged prodigal's return was anything
but a fortunate event for Michael and his granddaughter. The secret marriage,
with Clem was not likely, in any case, to have a respectable significance. True,
there were not lacking grounds for hesitation in refusing to accept Joseph's
account of himself. He had a fund of natural amiability; he had a good provision
of intellect; his talk was at times very persuasive and much like that of one
who has been brought to a passable degree of honesty by the slow development of
his better instincts. But his face was against him; the worn, sallow features,
the eyes which so obviously made a struggle to look with frankness, the vicious
lower lip, awoke suspicion and told tales of base experience such as leaves its
stamp upon a man for ever. All the more repugnant was this face to Sidney
because it presented, in certain aspects, an undeniable resemblance to Jane's;
impossible to say which feature put forth this claim of kindred, but the
impression was there, and it made Sidney turn away his eyes in disgust as often
as he perceived it. He strove, however, to behave with friendliness, for it was
Michael's desire that he should do so. That Joseph was using every opportunity
of prying into his thoughts, of learning the details of his history, he soon
became perfectly conscious; but he knew of nothing that he need conceal.
    It was impossible that Sidney should not have reflected many a time on
Michael Snowdon's position, and have been moved to curiosity by hints of the
mysterious when he thought of his friends in Hanover Street. As it happened, he
never saw those newspaper advertisements addressed to
