the day's work, he often
left his comfortable room late in the evening and rambled about the streets of
that part of London which had surely least interest for him, the streets which
are thronged with idlers, with carriages going homeward from the theatres, with
those who can only come forth to ply their business when darkness has fallen?
Did he seek food for his antagonism in observing the characteristics of the
world in which he was a stranger, the world which has its garners full and takes
its ease amid superfluity? It could scarcely be that, for since his wife's death
an indifference seemed to be settling upon him; he no longer cared to visit the
Green or his club on Sunday, and seldom spoke on the subjects which formerly
goaded him to madness. He appeared to be drawn forth against his will, in spite
of weariness, and his look as he walked on was that of a man who is in search of
some one. Yet whom could he expect to meet in these highways of the West End?
    Oxford Street, Regent Street, Piccadilly, the Strand, the ways about St.
James's Park; John Hewett was not the only father who has come forth after
nightfall from an obscure home to look darkly at the faces passing on these
broad pavements. At times he would shrink into a shadowed corner, and peer
thence at those who went by under the gaslight. When he moved forward, it was
with the uneasy gait of one who shuns observation; you would have thought,
perchance, that he watched an opportunity of begging and was shamefaced: it
happened now and then that he was regarded suspiciously. A rough-looking man,
with grizzled beard, with eyes generally bloodshot, his shoulders stooping -
naturally the miserable are always suspected where law is conscious of its
injustice.
    Two years ago he was beset for a time with the same restlessness, and took
night-walks in the same directions; the habit wore away, however. Now it
possessed him even more strongly. Between ten and eleven o'clock, when the
children were in bed, he fell into abstraction, and presently, with an
unexpected movement, looked up as if some one had spoken to him - just the look
of one who hears a familiar voice; then he sighed, and took his hat and went
forth. It happened sometimes when he was sitting with his friends Mr. and Mrs.
Eagles; in that case he would make some kind of excuse. The couple suspected
that his business would take him to the public-house, but John never came back