, by the subject of my lucubrations, men who died by the hands of
the executioner. He said little more to his brother, except asking, as if
casually, what sort of an old woman this was? of what age she might be? and
whether she often brought him materials of this kind? and soon after took
occasion to leave him.
    It was with vast pleasure that Gines had listened to this unhoped for
information. Having collected from his brother sufficient hints relative to the
person and appearance of Mrs. Marney, and understanding that he expected to
receive something from me the next day, Gines took his stand in the street early
that he might not risk miscarriage by negligence. He waited several hours but
not without success. Mrs. Marney came; he watched her into the house; and after
about twenty minutes delay saw her return. He dogged her from street to street;
observed her finally enter the door of a private house; and congratulated
himself upon having at length arrived at the consummation of his labours.
    The house she entered was not her own habitation. By a sort of miraculous
accident she had observed Gines following her in the street. As she went home,
she saw a woman who had fallen down in a fainting fit. Moved by the compassion
that was ever alive in her, she approached her in order to render her
assistance. Presently a crowd collected round them. Mrs. Marney, having done
what she was able, once more proceeded homewards. Observing the crowd round her,
the idea of pickpockets occurred to her mind; she put her hands to her sides,
and at the same time looked round upon the populace. She had left the circle
somewhat abruptly; and Gines, who had been obliged to come nearer lest he should
lose her in the confusion, was at that moment standing exactly oppositeto her.
His visage was of the most extraordinary kind; habit had written the characters
of malignant cunning and dauntless effrontery in every line of his face; and
Mrs. Marney, who was neither philosopher nor physiognomist, was nevertheless
struck. This good woman, like most persons of her notable character, had a
peculiar way of going home, not through the open streets, but by narrow lanes
and alleys, with intricate insertions and sudden turnings. In one of these by
some accident she once again caught a glance of her pursuer. This circumstance,
together with the singularity of his appearance, awakened her conjectures. Could
he be following her? It was the middle of the day, and she could have no fears
for herself. But could this circumstance have any