I told her at once that I had come to ask what her terms were for charing.

She stared at me for a moment, then answered my question civilly enough.
"You look surprised at a stranger like me finding you out," I said.
"I first came to hear of you last night, from a relation of yours, in rather an odd way." And I told her all that had happened in the chandler's shop, bringing in the bundle of rags, and the circumstance of my carrying home the candles in the old torn cravat, as often as possible.
"It's the first time I've heard of anything belonging to him turning out any use," said Mrs.Horlick, bitterly.
"What! the spoiled old neck-handkerchief belonged to your husband, did it ?" said I, at a venture.
"Yes; I pitched his rotten rag of a neck-'andkercher into the bundle along with the rest, and I wish I could have pitched him in after it," said Mrs.Horlick.

"I'd sell him cheap at any ragshop.

There he stands, smoking his pipe at the end of the Mews, out of work for weeks past, the idlest humpbacked pig in all London!" She pointed to the man whom I had passed on entering the Mews.

My cheeks began to burn and my knees to tremble, for I knew that in tracing the cravat to its owner I was advancing a step toward a fresh discovery.