33
	                   Ledger.
ishly ran away from her � she a mother, too.
  4.  Saturday.  Hither and thither, to Bellews,
lost my dinner, down-town, to �Courier,� �Pic� of-
fice &c.      Tired out at night.      Whist-party in
Ledger�s room.    Mrs. Boley, Miss Maguire, Billing-
ton, Bob Gun, Cahill and anon Morris.             I sat
up for an hour subsequent with Ledger, he talking autobio-
graphically.       He is a short rather than mid-
dle-sized man, trimly dressed in solid-looking
clothes, dark-colored ones, no shirt collar visible.
Very reddish faced, inclining to bald-ness, his
hair darkish, wearing a shortish beard and mous-
tache.     Not good-looking, inclining indeed perhaps to ugli-
ness, though of no pronounced character.    The flesh
surrounding his eyes is protuberant, the eyes them-
selves have a trick of displaying their whites, which
in conjunction with their scarlet surroundings, pro-
duce the effect denominated by Cahill �a revolving-
light�-house aspect.            A curt, blunt, gross-
speaking, sharp-thinking man, ordinarily straight-
forward in expressing his opinions on little
things, but quietly alert, wily and watchful.
Fundamentally English, even to naiv�te, which con-
trasts oddly with his vocation.    The man is really
high in authority as a London detective, considera-
bly above the Fields, �Buckets� and such.     I judge
him to be perfectly unscrupulous as to means to