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"Well, you can imagine how hard it was to settle down to arduous

work at £ 2 a week when I knew that I could earn as much in a day

by smearing my face with a little paint, laying my cap on the

ground, and sitting still. It was a long fight between my pride

and the money, but the dollars won at last, and I threw up

reporting and sat day after day in the corner which I had first

chosen, inspiring pity by my ghastly face and filling my pockets

with coppers. Only one man knew my secret. He was the keeper of a

low den in which I used to lodge in Swandam Lane, where I could

every morning emerge as a squalid beggar and in the evenings

transform myself into a well-dressed man about town. This fellow,

a Lascar, was well paid by me for his rooms, so that I knew that

my secret was safe in his possession.