Nobody knows what his real name is, but he's a Hollander. When I have traversed the streets a houseless wanderer, driven with curses from every door where I have solicited alms, and with blows from every gateway where I have sought shelter,—when I have crept into some deserted building, and stretched my wearied limbs upon a bulk, in the vain hope of repose,—or, worse than all, when, frenzied with want, I have yielded to horrible temptation, and earned a meal in the only way I could earn one,—when I have felt, at times like these, my heart sink within me, I have drank of this drink, and have at once forgotten my cares, my poverty, my guilt. Figg?" said Jack, peevishly. CHAPTER XXII Every morning at dawn it was Spurlock's custom to take a plunge in the lagoon. He did not like it. I ought to stay the night through; but I'm late now for an operation at the hospital. Holding down the light, he perceived that the wounded man had risen to the surface, and was trying to clamber up the slippery sides of the well. "For my part, I don't think you ever quite got over the accident you met with on the night of the Great Storm. His condition is not unfavourable, but there may be a relapse at any moment. There are some papers I have to look through to-night—important papers. He’s a quiet person, and he says that quiet people should never become salesmen. "Ja, ja, Muntmeester," said the Hollander, shaking his head in reply;—"very bad —very.
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