And also in a moment his heart responded thrillingly to this novel mood. An instantaneous and strong impulse moved him to battle with his desperate fate. He would pull himself out of the mire; he would make a man of himself again; he would conquer the evil that had taken possession of him. There was time; he was comparatively young yet; he would resurrect his old eager ambitions and pursue them without faltering. Those solemn but sweet organ notes had set up a revolution in him. Tomorrow he would go into the roaring down-town district and find work. A fur importer had once offered him a place as driver. He would find him to-morrow and ask for the position. He would be somebody in the world. He would—

　　Soapy felt a hand laid on his arm. He looked quickly round into the broad face of a policeman.

　　“What are you doin’ here?” asked the officer.

　　“Nothing’，” said Soapy.

　　“Then come along,” said the policeman.

　　“Three months on the Island,” said the Magistrate in the Police Court the next morning.