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Not once did I close my eyes that night. A kind of fever got possession of me a vehement yearning to go on from this first discovery and find out more, no matter what the risk might be. The cravat now really became, to my mind, the clew that I thought I saw in my dream the clew that I was resolved to follow. I determined to go to Mrs. Horlick this evening on my return from work.
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.
Horlick good evening, and said I would write and mention the day on which I wanted her. What I had just been told put a thought into my mind that I was afraid to follow out. I have heard people talk of being light-headed, and I felt as I have heard them say they felt when I retraced my steps up the Mews.
"Yes, of course I did," answered the woman; "and if you can put a job into her hands, you'll be doing a good turn to a poor hard-working creature as wants it. She lives down the Mews here to the right name of Horlick, and as honest a woman as ever stood in shoe-leather. Now, then, ma'am, what for you?" Another customer came in just then, and occupied her attention.
Horlick, Messrs Brookes and Berkins how complete it seemed, how individual and how synthetical his eyes filled with tears of unpremeditated grief. The leaves were falling, the hills were shrouded in wreaths of floating mist.
"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.
I found the Mews easily. A crook-backed dwarf of a man was lounging at the corner of it smoking his pipe. Not liking his looks, I did not inquire of him where Mrs. Horlick lived, but went down the Mews till I met with a woman, and asked her. She directed me to the right number. I knocked at the door, and Mrs. Horlick herself a lean, ill-tempered, miserable-looking woman answered it.
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