—Ay, but not that kind of sickness, Meg. When was it you were bairned?

She said Eh? and then lay still for a minute, staring; he said it was no good to look at him like that, he’d known a long time and she might as well tell.

She turned her face to the pillow then, away from him, and whispered Six months ago. Oh, Alick! and began to cry, soft, in the littered bed, in a misery he couldn’t help, could only stare at helpless. Where did he do it, the bastard? Up in his toff’s room in Windmill Place?

She turned her head and stared again, and he saw the flyting quean in her eyes: Windmill Place? What was he havering about? The beast was never at the Place in his life.

Alick said Listen, you bitch, and answer me straight: and bent over the bed and caught her wrists, crushing them in sudden, frantic nieves. Who’s the father? Be quick and tell me!

When he heard her say Steve Selden, he knew he’d been done, had played the fool. And Oh Christ, Ewan—if Εwan were caught ——

He tore from the room and out of the house, banging the door behind, down the steps, the old whaler captain was out in the court, lurching home and singing a hymn, Ake saw his old wife peering down in fear. But he brushed past the old carle and ran for the entrance, two chaps that he knew were entering the court, they tried to stop him, for a joke, and he flung them aside, and paid no heed as they cried was it daftness or dysentery? And out in the Cowgate he started to run, dodging in and out the ash-cans on the pavement, a black cat ran across the street in front, that for luck, hell, there was a bobby.

So he slowed to a walk going by the bobby, if a childe were seen by a bobby running in the Cowgate he was sure to be chased and caught and questioned. Out of range Alick took to his heels again and gained Alban Street the same minute as a tram.

Only as he climbed the steps did he mind that he hadn’t even a meek upon him, and turned to jump off as the tram with a showd swung grinding down to the Harbour: suddenly shining in a glint of sun, gulls above it, the guff of the Fish-Market meeting the tram like a smack in the face, it grunted and sneezed and galloped on through it. But the conductor had seen Alick and caught his arm: Look out, you whoreson, jumping off here. You’ll bash out your brains—if you’ve any to bash.

Alick said he’d found he’d no money on him, he was one of the strikers at Gowans and Gloag’s in the hell and all of a hurry to get down with a bit of news for the rest of the lads. He’d jump off here—