Thirty shillings a week." He wrote down Dene's new name and the amount of his wages.

Then, suddenly, his manner changed; with an impatient gesture he waved his beringed hand, and Dene felt himself swept outside.
He stood in the gangway and looked straight before him for a minute or two.

His brain was whirling somewhat, but he realized that he had escaped.

His hand went to his breast pocket, where reposed the five-pound note his guardian angel had given him.

It was still intact.
He felt that it was proving itself a talisman.