The child struggled like a very feeble little wild beast, clawing and scratching, but silent with a terrible silence which showed how he had learned to dread drawing attention to himself.
"Quiet! quiet! I'm not going to hurt you," said Sir Tancred in a gentle voice, a little husky with a piercing emotion which had invaded him; and something in its tones really did quiet the child, for he struggled no more, though his breath came in a quick, faint, terrified panting.
Sir Tancred took him through the house, and felt a quivering throb run through him at the sight of the brutes who had fallen back into their drunken slumbers.

He brought him out to the cab, and said hoarsely to Selina, "Is this the child ?" "That's him, sir! That's him!" said Selina, holding out her hands for him; and the tears of joy trickled down her rugged cheeks.
Sir Tancred gave him to her, bade the cab-man drive to the Hotel Cecil, and got into the cab.
Selina had untied the brown-paper parcel, and was putting a little coat on the child.

"I took the liberty of getting it to bring him away, in case you should let me have charge of him," she said.
The child still panted, but most of the terror had faded from his eyes; he had recognised his friend.

Sir Tancred looked at him hungrily; his soul, so long starved, was feasting on the sight of that atom of humanity, so grimy, so shocking to the eye, but his own child.
"They call you Hildebrand Anne, do they ?" he said with a broken, joyful laugh.

"Tinker's the name for you!".