Quelch,--stood before the
looking-glass and contemplated his guilty splendour, the red necktie
and the soft gray felt hat, purchased out of surplus funds. He had
expended a couple of guineas in a second-class return ticket, and
another two pounds in "coupons," entitling him to bed, breakfast,
and dinner for five days at certain specified hotels in Paris.
This outlay, with half a crown for a pair of gloves, and a bribe
of five shillings to secure the silence of Mrs. Widger, left him
with little more than a pound in hand, but this small surplus would
no doubt amply suffice for his modest needs.
His only regret, as he gazed at himself in the glass was that he had
not had time to grow a moustache, the one thing needed to complete
his artistic appearance. But time was fleeting, and he dared not
linger over the enticing picture. He stole along the passage, and
softly opened the street door. As he did so a sudden panic came over
him, and he felt half inclined to abandon his rash design. But as
he wavered he caught sight of the detested tall hat hanging up in
the passage, and he hesitated no longer. He passed out, and, closing
the door behind him, started at a brisk pace for Victoria station.
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