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 MEAP Edition
Manning Early Access Program
Inside Deep Learning
Math, Algorithms, Models
Version 1

Copyright 2020 Manning Publications

For more information on this and other Manning titles go to

manning.com

©Manning Publications Co. To comment go to liveBook

 welcome
I’m delighted that you’ve purchased the MEAP for my book Inside Deep Learning: Math,
Algorithms, Models. This book is geared toward those with a firm programing background who
have some machine learning (ML) experience but want to go deeper. You are in good shape to
reach through this book if you are comfortable with the basics of calculus, linear algebra, and
statistics that go into machine learning.
If you can record the inputs and correct outputs for a task, deep learning can help you
translate that task from human time and effort to an automated process. The input could be
an image, and the output “cat”, or “dog” for example, would describe the images’ content. The
input could be an English sentence, and the output a French sentence with the same meaning.
That’s machine translation. The input could be the description “cat” and the output be an
actual image of a cat! This input/output nature makes deep learning widely applicable to
almost any domain you can think of. It's why I got into machine learning in the first place,
giving me a chance to have an impact and contribute to solving real problems in almost any
domain.
Deep learning (also called neural networks) gives us tools to help improve the quality of
life in big and small ways, and my sincere desire is to pass that along to you. By the end of
this book, you should understand:
• What deep learning is
• How to build and modify deep learning models
• Which “building blocks” you should look toward for a given problem

To achieve this there are two overall parts to the book. In each chapter we will not only show
how to implement the code for these techniques but we'll show and explain the math behind
them too.
Part 1 will cover the basics. The framework we will use to implement our deep learning
models (PyTorch), and the three oldest and most common types of neural networks (they
come from the 1980s and earlier!). These are the foundations from which all the other
chapters will build. Once we have these foundations underfoot, we will learn the approaches
invented in the past ten years that helped revive neural networks. Combined, these give us a
set of “building blocks” that we can put together.
Part 2 will start building new kinds of approaches that move past the standard
classification and regression problems from normal machine learning. We'll do unsupervised
learning, object detection, generative modeling, and transfer learning as some major
concepts.
After almost a decade as a consultant I’ve had the opportunity to work on or assist with a
large number of topics in a variety of domains. The topics of these chapters have been chosen
based on what I’ve found useful to solving problems over my career thus far. It's all the things

©Manning Publications Co. To comment go to liveBook

I wish I knew years ago. My students thus far have found it useful to them academically and
professionally, and my goal is to enable you for a successful career in this field.
During the MEAP I’ll be diligently working on the next chapters, and eagerly looking
forward to your feedback in the liveBook Discussion Forum. If you find the book has taught you
something new, I will be very happy and if I’ve failed to explain something well, I want to
improve it for you as best I can.

—Edward Raff

©Manning Publications Co. To comment go to liveBook

 brief contents
PART 1: FOUNDATIONAL METHODS
1 The Mechanics of Learning
2 Fully Connected Networks
3 Convolutional Neural Networks
4 Recurrent Neural Networks
5 Modern Training Techniques
6 Common Design Building Blocks
PART 2: BUILDING ADVANCED NETWORKS
7 Embedding & Auto Encoding
8 Object Detection
9 Generative Adversarial Networks
10 Attention Mechanism
11 Alternatives to RNNs
12 Transfer Learning
13 Advanced Design Building Blocks & Training Techniques

©Manning Publications Co. To comment go to liveBook

 1

1
The Mechanics of Learning

This chapter covers:

• Introducing PyTorch, a tensor-based API for deep learning
• Running faster code with PyTorch's GPU acceleration
• Understanding automatic differentiation as the basis of learning
• Using the Dataset interface to prepare our data.

Deep Learning, also called neural networks, or artificial neural networks, has lead to dramatic
advances in the quality, accuracy, and usability machine learning. Technology that was considered
impossible just 10 years ago is now widely deployed or considered technically possible, even if
work remains. Digital assistants like Cortana, Google, Alexa and Siri are ubiquitous and can react
to natural spoken language. Self driving cars have been racking up millions of miles on the road
as they are refined for eventual deployment. We can finally catalog and calculate just how much
of the Internet is made of cat photos. Deep Learning has been instrumental to the success of all
of these use cases, and many more.

In this book I will give you a wide breadth of exposure to some of the most common and useful
techniques in deep learning today. A major focus will be not just how to use and code these
networks, but to understand how and why they work at a deep level. With a deeper
understanding you’ll be better equipped to select the best approach for your own problems.
Beyond being able to wield these tools effectively, you’ll also have the understanding to keep up
with advances in this rapidly progressing field. To make best use of this book, you should be
familiar with programming in python, and have some passing memory of a calculus, statistics,
and linear algebra course. You should also have some prior experience with ML, and it is OK if you
aren’t an expert. Topics from ML broadly will be quickly re-introduced, but our goal is to move
into new and interesting details about deep learning.

Let’s get a clearer idea of what Deep Learning is, and how this book will teach it. Deep Learning is
itself a sub-domain of Machine Learning, which is also a sub-domain of Artificial Intelligence.
Broadly 1, we could describe AI as getting computers to make decisions that look smart. I say
look because it is very hard to define what “smart” or “intelligence” truly is. These are deep

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 2

philosophical questions that we are not going to tackle. But the point is that AI should be making
decisions that we think are reasonable and what a “smart” person would do. Your GPS telling you
how to get home actually uses some old2 AI techniques to work, and taking the fastest route
home is a “smart” decision. Getting computers to play many video games has been done with
purely AI based approaches, where only the rules of the game are encoded - and one does not
need to actually show the AI how to play a single game of Chess. Figure 1.1 shows AI as the
outer most layer of these fields.

Figure 1.1: A (simplified) hierarchy of AI, ML, and Deep Learning. Each layer has a short description of how we might
characterized the added item that makes it different from the preceding layer. So a deep learning approach will
generally have the properties of ML and AI.

Machine Learning (ML) is when we start to give our AI examples of previous smart, and not so
smart, decisions. Telling it explicitly “this is what should have happened”. For example, we can
improve our chess playing AI by giving it example games from chess grand masters (which has a
winner and looser, so both a smart and not-as-smart set of decisions) to learn from as well.

Deep Learning in turn is not one “algorithm” in particular, but a whole slew of hundreds of small
“algorithms” that act like building blocks. Part of being a good practitioner is known the building
blocks you have available, and which ones to stick them together to create one larger model for
your problem. Each building block is designed to work well for certain kinds of problems, giving
the model valuable information. Figure 1.2 shows how we might compose different blocks
together to tackle three different situations. One of the goals in this book is to cover a wide
breadth of the different kinds of building blocks, so that you know and understand how they can
be used for different kinds of problems. Some of the blocks a very generic (“Data is a Sequence”
could be used for literally any kind of sequence) while others are more specific (“Data is an
Image” applies to only images), which will impact when and how you want to use them.

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 3

Figure 1.2: One of the defining characteristics of deep learning is the use of re-usable “blocks” that we can build
models from. Different blocks are useful for different kinds of data, and can be mixed-and-matched to deal with
different problems. Here we can see how five different blocks can be re-used to describe models for different types
of problems.

The first row shows two “image” blocks, in order to create a deep model. Applying blocks
repeatedly is where the “deep” in “deep learning” comes from. Adding depth makes a model
capable of solving more complex problems. This depth is often obtained by repeatedly stacking
the same kind of block multiple times. The second row in the figure shows a case for a sequence
problem. For example, text can be represented as a sequence of words. But not all words are
meaningful, and so we may want to give the model a block that helps it learn to ignore certain
words. The third row shows how we can describe new problems using the blocks we know about.
If we want our AI to watch a video and predict what is happening (e.g., “running”, “tennis”, or
“adorable puppy attack”) we can use the “image” and “sequence” block to create a “sequence of
images”, which is a verbose way of saying “a video”.

These different building blocks define our model, but like all of machine learning we also need
data and some mechanism for learning. When we say “learning”, we are not talking about the
way that humans learn. In machine (and deep) learning, the “learning” is the mechanical process
of getting the model to make the “smart looking” predictions on our data. This happens via a
process called “optimization” or “function minimization”. At the start, before we have seen any
data, our model is simply going to return random outputs because all of the parameters that
control the model are initialized to random values. By optimizing the blocks over the data, we
make our models learn. This gives us the larger picture in Figure 1.3.

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 4

Figure 1.3: The car of deep learning. The car is built from many different building blocks that we will learn about,
and we use different building locks to build cars for different tasks. But we need fuel and wheels to make the car go.
Our wheels are the task of learning which is done via a process called optimization, and the fuel is our data.

In most chapters of this book you will learn about new building blocks that you can use to build
deep learning models for different applications. You can think of each block as a kind of
(potentially very simple) algorithm. We will learn about the uses of each block, some explanation
about how or why they work, and how to combine them in code to create a new model. Thanks to
the nature of building blocks on top of each other, we will be able to ramp up from simple tasks
(e.g., simple prediction problems you could have tackled with your favorite non-deep ML
algorithm) to complex examples like machine translation (e.g., having a computer translate from
English to French). As we do this we will start with the basic approaches and methods that have
been in use since the 1960s for training and building neural networks, but using a modern
framework 3. As we progress through this book well build upon what we’ve learned in previous
chapters, introducing new blocks of using what we’ve learned to extend old blocks or build new
blocks from existing ones.

That said, this book is not a cook book of code snippets to just throw at any new problem. Rather,
the goal is to get you comfortable with the language that deep learning researchers use to
describe new and improved blocks they are creating, so that you can have some familiarity and
recognize when a new block may be useful to you. Math can often be used to express complex
changes very succinctly, so I will be sharing the math behind the building blocks.

We won’t do a lot of math, but we are going to show the math. When I say we won’t do math that
does not mean the book has none, but it means we are not going to derive or prove the math that
will be shown. Instead I’m going to present you with the final equations, explain what they mean
and do, and try to attach useful intuition to the different equations we will see through the book.
I’m calling it intuition because we will go through the bare minimum math needed to explain the
high level idea of what is happening, and showing exactly “why” a result is the way it is requires
more math than I’m asking you to have. As we show the math, we will interweave it with PyTorch
code whenever possible. This way you can start to build a mental map between equations and
deep learning code.

©Manning Publications Co. To comment go to liveBook

 5

For for this chapter, we are first going to get introduced to our compute environment Google
Colab. Next, we can start talking about PyTorch and tensors, which is how we represent
information inside of PyTorch. After that well dive into the use of Graphics Processing Units
(GPUs) that make PyTorch fast, and automatic differentiation which is the “mechanics” PyTorch
leverages to make our neural network models learn. Finally, we will quickly implement a dataset
object which is what PyTorch will need to feed our data into the model for the learning process.
This gives us the fuel and wheels to get our deep learning car moving starting in chapter 2. From
there on we can focus on just the deep learning.

1.1 Getting Started with Colab

We will be using Graphics Processing Units (GPUs) for everything we do with deep learning. It is
unfortunately a computationally demanding practice, and GPUs are essentially a requirement for
getting started, and especially when you start to work on larger applications. I use deep learning
all the time as part of my day-job, and regularly kick off jobs that take a few days to train on
multiple GPUs. Some of my research experiments take as much as a month of compute for each
run.

Unfortunately, GPUs are also decently expensive. The best option currently for most people who
want to get started with deep learning is to spend\$600-\$1200 on one of the higher end Nvidia
GTX or Titan GPUs. That is if you have a computer that can be expanded/upgraded with a high
end GPU. If not, you are probably looking at at least \$1500-\$2500 to build a nice workstation to
put those GPUs in. Thats a pretty steep cost just to learn about deep learning.

Google’s Colab (https://colab.research.google.com) provides a GPU for free, for a limited amount
of time. I’ve designed every example in this book to run within Colab’s time limits. Appendix A
contains the instructions for setting up Colab. Once you have it setup, the common data science
and machine learning tools like seaborn, matplotlib, tqdm, and pandas are all built in and ready to
go. Colab operates as a familiar Jupyter notebook, where you run code in “cells” which produce an
output directly below. This book is in fact a Jupyter notebook, so you can run the code blocks (like
the next one) to get the same results. I’ll let you know if a code cell isn’t meant to be run.
import seaborn as sns
import matplotlib.pyplot as plt
import numpy as np
from tqdm.autonotebook import tqdm
import pandas as pd

As we progress through this book, we are not going to repeatedly show all of the imports, as that
is mostly a waste of paper. Instead they will be available on-line as part of the downloadable
copies of the code, which can be found at https://github.com/EdwardRaff/Inside-Deep-Learning.

1.2 The World as Tensors

Deep learning has been used on spreadsheets, audio, images, and text, but deep learning
frameworks don’t use different classes or objects to distinguish between these many different
kinds of data. Instead they have one data type that they work with, and we the users must
convert our data into this format. For PyTorch this singular “view” of the world is through a tensor
object. Tensors are used to represent both data, the inputs/outputs to any deep learning block,
and the parameters that control the behavior of our networks. Two important features are built
into these tensor objects, the ability to do fast parallel computation with Graphics Processing

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Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
 “I am not to be moved,” I said, “and there must be an end at once
to prevarication. Your answer must be ‘yes,’ or ‘no,’ and it must be
given quickly.”
“To-day?” she asked.
“If not to-day, at least within the next three or four days,” I
replied. “I will no longer be kept in a state of suspense.”
She looked at me with a sad expression, which might have
deceived another man.
“On Wednesday, then,” she said, “at two o’clock, I will give you my
final answer. It must be ‘Yes,’ of course, for you are strong and I am
weak, but I will wait till then. I am bound to consult my friend before
I commit myself.”
All her gaiety appeared to have deserted her. In silence she put on
her hat and shawl, and bade me good morning, saying she would
come at two o’clock on Wednesday.
I mistrust her; I will delay no longer. On Monday I will draw out
another Will, making my son my heir, and in case of his not being
alive—which God forbid!—leaving my money to charitable purposes.
It is a relief to reflect that my anxiety regarding my wife will soon
be at an end. She cannot but consent to my proposal, and then I
shall be free from her for ever. Would to God I had never seen her!

Sunday, 6th July.—This has been truly a Sabbath Day, a day of

prayer, to me, and has been passed in contemplation of my past life,
and in supplications for the future. If a man could but see the
consequences of his errors before he was committed to them, how
much misery to himself, how much injustice to others, would be
avoided! It is almost incredible that, blessed in the memory of a wife
with a pure heart and mind, I should have been led into a second
marriage with such a woman as Lydia Wilson. The fault was more
mine than hers. She had led a life of shame and duplicity, and it was
not to be expected that the simple forming of an acquaintanceship
with me would change her character. I should have been wiser, or at
least more prudent. I ought certainly to have made an inquiry into
the truth or falsehood of the story she told me, or I might have
considered that the union of a man of my age with a woman of hers
could not be a happy one. It is too late now to repent of an act
which has brought its own just and bitter punishment. The only
reparation I can make is to endeavour to repair the evil
consequences which have ensued. The one aim of my life, after the
settlement with my wife is accomplished, will be to find my son. I
will advertise for him in the English and American newspapers, and
this surely will bring me news of him. But it may not be necessary;
he may be with me any time this week. If a father’s prayers could
bring him to my side he would be here at this moment.

Monday, 7th July.—I have been employed during a great part of

the day in preparing and writing a new Will. Not wishing to consult a
lawyer and so to make known my presence in London, and fearful
also of delay, I purchased at a stationer’s shop, at some distance
from Great Porter Square, printed forms of Wills from which I drew
out a testamentary disposition of my property. This task occupied
me until four o’clock in the afternoon, and the next task was to
obtain witnesses to my signature. These could have been obtained
in the house, but if I had attempted it I should have destroyed my
incognito. I went to the shop of the stationer of whom I purchased
the printed forms, and I returned them to him, and made some
small purchases, to the amount of a couple of sovereigns. I then
asked the shopkeeper whether he would have any objection to
witnessing my signature to a Will, and to allowing an assistant who
was serving in the shop also to witness it. He consented, and I
signed without giving him a clear opportunity of distinguishing my
name; the names of the witnesses followed, and the Will was
complete. In payment of the service rendered to me I left in the
man’s shop the goods I had bought and paid for; I had no use for
them.
The Will is before me now, and I have read it carefully over.
Everything appears to be stated in proper legal form, and I have no
doubt that it sets my last Will completely aside. What I have done
myself without the aid of lawyers has been simply a measure of
precaution for the next few days. Wednesday, I hope, will be the last
day of my enforced retirement.

Wednesday, 8th July.—It is now four o’clock. My wife entered my

room at one o’clock, an hour before that appointed for our meeting.
I did not hear her step on the stairs or in the passage, and not
expecting her I was looking over the Will I made yesterday and the
pages of the diary I have kept since I became a lodger in this house.
As she entered, suddenly and unexpectedly, I threw a newspaper
over my writing, not wishing to excite her suspicions or to arouse
her curiosity; but, as I soon discovered, I was not successful. She
was in her usual gay mood, and came in with smiles and bright
looks.
“Well, my dear,” she said, “here I am, punctual to the minute.”
“You are an hour too early,” I replied, “our appointment was for
two o’clock.”
“One o’clock, my dear,” she said, correcting me.
“It is immaterial,” I said, “and if it bring our business to a speedier
conclusion, the mistake of an hour will be agreeable to me.”
She nodded pleasantly, and, as in our previous interviews, took off
her hat and mantle, and placed them aside.
“You have been busy,” she said, pointing to the newspaper which
covered my papers. “Are you writing a book?” I did not answer her,
and she continued, still preserving her light tone. “Make me your
heroine, my love, but do not be too hard to me. Say something good
of me if you can. You may say that, after all, I showed my good
sense, and agreed to your proposals.”
“Am I to accept this as an acquiescence in the arrangement I have
proposed?”
“Yes, my dear; I have grown sensible. I give in to all your terms. I
will go away from England, and will never, never return. I will give
up the name of Holdfast; I will even forget the name of Lydia, and
will go out into the world a new woman. A better one, I hope. There
is but one thing I insist upon. Now that I have made up my mind,
and that nothing can alter it—nothing, my dear; I would not live with
you again if you were to entreat me on your knees—I want this
business matter settled at once, this very day.”
“How can that be done?” I asked.
“Easily,” she replied. “Draw up a paper for me to sign, and another
for you to sign. I will take them away with me, and will show them
to my lawyer. Yes, my love, I have consulted a lawyer, and he has
advised me to agree to all you propose. If he says the papers are
properly drawn out, I will come again to-night, at ten o’clock, and
will bring my lawyer with me, to see that they are regularly signed. I
will keep my agreement, and you will keep yours, and to-morrow
morning I will leave your house, and you can go home and take
possession. Nobody but ourselves will be the wiser, and your secret
and mine will never be known to the world.”
“I am no lawyer,” I said; “I do not know whether I can draw up
the agreement in legal form.”
“Try, my love,” she said; “you are fond of writing, and have had
great experience. You can put anything you please in the paper you
wish me to sign. You can make it, if you like, a confession from me
that I have been a faithless wife, and that my child is not yours. I
will sign it. That will suit you, will it not? And it will give you such a
hold upon me that, if I break my word, you can release yourself
from me, without ever paying me a shilling. That is fair, I am sure,
and afterwards, if you are not satisfied with the agreements, your
lawyer can draw up others more binding on both of us. I am so sick
of you, my love, that nothing else will satisfy me but an immediate
break between us. Do I not put myself entirely in your power? If you
refuse now, I shall leave you to take any steps against me you
choose.”
I considered a few moments, and then consented. To go to law, to
sue for a divorce, was a matter of months. The plan she proposed
was all in my favour, and it would leave me free to recommence
immediately the search for my son. I would draw up such a paper as
would bind her beyond hope of appeal, and all danger of publicity
would be avoided.
“Who is your lawyer?” I asked.
 She produced a letter from a lawyer in Buckingham Palace Road
replying to certain points she had submitted to him. I was satisfied,
and said that I would endeavour to draw up the agreements.
It was a work of time—of quite two hours—and while I was
employed over the papers she sat down before the piano in my
room, which I had never opened, and played the sweetest melodies
with which she was familiar. She betrayed no impatience; only once
did she rise from the piano, and disarranged the papers on the table,
in pretended search of her handkerchief.
“Quite an author,” she remarked as her eyes fell upon the pages of
my diary, among which was my new Will.
Nothing of greater importance occurred. The agreements being
ready, she read them over slowly, and simply said:
“You have protected yourself, my love.”
“I have stated the truth,” I replied, “and your signature will verify
it.”
She remained with me some short time after this, making frivolous
remarks, to which I returned but brief answers. Then she left me, on
the understanding that she would come to the house at ten o’clock
to sign the papers, which she took with her.
On reflection, I think it will be wise even now to be on my guard
against her. She saw the pages of my diary, and might have seen the
Will. I will put them out of her reach. The room next to this is empty,
and the door is unlocked. I will go and see if I can secrete them
there.... There is in that room, in an old-fashioned table, an empty
drawer which might easily escape observation. There is a small key
in the lock. I will deposit these pages at once in the drawer, where
they will be safe for a few hours.
My long agony is approaching its end. Impatiently I wait for the
night.
 CHAPTER XLIV.
CAGED.

W ITHInthose words the diary ended.

breathless silence, oblivious for the time of every
surrounding circumstance, Frederick Holdfast perused the record of
his father’s last hours. What followed, after his father had secreted
the papers, was clear to his mind. Mrs. Holdfast had kept her
appointment at ten o’clock, accompanied by her “lawyer,” who could
have been no other than the villain Pelham. By a hapless fatality, the
house, No. 119 Great Porter Square, had on that night but one
inmate—the man who was never to see another rising sun. The
landlady and her lodgers were at a wedding feast; the servant was
enjoying the glories of the Alhambra, in the company of her
sweetheart. Only Mr. Holdfast remained, and thus his murderers
were enabled to enter and leave the house without being observed.
Most likely he himself opened the street door for them. In the
privacy of his room, with no witnesses near, the mask was thrown
off by Mrs. Holdfast and her associate, and demands were made
upon Mr. Holdfast with which he refused to comply. Whether the
purpose of his visitors was murder would never now be known, but
murder was accomplished before they departed, and the unhappy
man was left by the wretched pair in the agonies of death. It was
necessary, thereafter, for their own safety that they should not be
seen in the neighbourhood of Great Porter Square, and it would
have excited suspicion had they exhibited the slightest interest in the
mysterious murder of a man whose body had not been identified.
Before leaving their victim they had taken the precaution to empty
his pockets of papers, and to remove from the room everything in
writing which might have led to the identification of the body. Having
made themselves safe, they left the house, and kept out of sight.
But some time afterwards Mrs. Holdfast must have recalled, in
conversation with Pelham, the memory of the sheets of paper
covered with her husband’s writing which she had seen upon the
table when she had visited him; these pages were not found in his
room, and they were then tormented by the idea that the writing
was still in existence, and might one day be discovered to criminate
and bring their guilt home to them. It became, therefore, vital to
their safety that the papers should not fall into other hands, and for
the purpose of searching for them and obtaining possession of them,
Pelham had disguised himself as Richard Manx, and had taken an
attic in No. 118 Great Porter Square, from which room he could gain
easy access to the house in which the murder had been committed.
The circumstantial evidence of guilt was complete, but direct
evidence, in his father’s own writing, now lay in Frederick Holdfast’s
hands. What remained to be done was to bring the murderer to the
bar of justice.
Not a moment was to be lost. It was now late in the night, and
Pelham was doubtless upstairs, busily engaged in his last search.
Frederick placed the papers carefully in his breast pocket. His
honour was established, his name was returned to him, he was
absolved from his oath. He could resume his position in the world,
and could offer to the woman he loved an honourable position in
society. It was she who had led him to this discovery; had it not
been for her courage, the wretches would have escaped, and his
father’s murder remained unavenged.
“I myself,” said Frederick, “will deliver the murderer into the hands
of justice. Tonight he shall sleep in a felon’s cell.”
He had no fear. Single-handed he would arrest Pelham; it was but
man to man, and he was armed, and his cause was just.
He listened for a moment. It was a wild night, and the rain was
pouring down heavily. The detective and his assistants were in the
Square, waiting upon his summons. Nothing but the plashing of the
rain was to be heard; no other sound fell upon his ears from within
or without. The murderer was working warily in the room above; he
himself would be as wary. Cunning for cunning, silence for silence, a
life for a life.
 “You murderous villain!” murmured Frederick. “Were it not that I
dare not stain my soul with a crime, you should not live another
hour!”
In his stocking-feet he crept from the kitchen, and stepped
noiselessly up-stairs. In his hushed movements was typified the
retribution which waits upon the man who sheds the blood of a
human being.
As he ascended the stairs which led to the first floor he was made
aware, by the sound of a man moving softly in the room in which his
father had been murdered, that Pelham was at work. In a few
moments Frederick Holdfast was at the door, listening.
Before he turned the handle, he looked through the key-hole to
mark the exact spot upon which Pelham stood, so that he might
seize him the instant he entered the room. To his surprise he saw
two persons in the room—Pelham bending over the floor boards he
had torn up, and the form of a man lying on the bed.
He could not see the face of the recumbent man; the face of
Pelham was clearly visible.
It was not, then, man to man. There were two to one. Justice
might be defeated were he to risk the unequal encounter. He
determined to call in the assistance of the officers in the Square.
But before he left the house, which was being watched from the
front and the back, it would be as well to make sure of the murderer
and his companion, so that they should have no possible means of
escape. He took from his pocket the key of the room, which he had
picked up a few hours ago; with a steady hand he inserted it in the
lock, and gently turned it, being unable to prevent the sound of a
slight click. Then he crept noiselessly down stairs, opened the street
door, closed it softly behind him, and stepping into the road, put a
whistle to his lips.
The summons was not instantly obeyed, and he blew the whistle
again, and looked anxiously around. The faint sound of another
whistle presently answered him, and in two or three minutes the
detective was by his side.
 “I was at the back of the house, sir,” said the detective, in apology,
“giving directions to one of my men, Parrock, a sharp fellow. You
have discovered something,” he added, noting Frederick’s agitation.
“I have found my father’s diary,” said Frederick, speaking rapidly,
“and a Will he made two or three days before he was murdered.”
“Making you all right, I hope,” said the detective.
“Yes—but that is of no consequence. The diary, which I have read,
leaves no room to doubt that my father was murdered by his wife’s
accomplice, Pelham. The evidence is conclusive, and he cannot
escape the law, once we have him safe. He must be arrested this
moment. He is in my father’s room. I would have secured him
myself, but he has another man with him, and I did not care to run
the chance of two against one.”
“He has a woman with him, you mean,” said the detective, “not a
man.”
“A man, I mean,” replied Frederick; “I saw him with my own eyes.”
“And I, with my own eyes,” rejoined the detective, “saw Mrs.
Holdfast enter No. 118 this evening, in company of Richard Manx,
otherwise Pelham. Attend to me a moment, sir. I see through it all.
Mrs. Holdfast accompanied him to-night into the house. Never mind
the motive—a woman’s motive, say—curiosity, wilfulness, anything
will serve. Pelham does not want her company—she forces it on him.
What does he do then? He dresses her in a suit of his clothes, so
that they may not attract attention when they leave Great Porter
Square to-night for good. She is a noticeable woman, sir, and has a
style about her which one can’t help remarking. The person you saw
was Mrs. Holdfast, dressed in man’s clothes. They are both, you say,
in the room your father occupied?”
“Yes, and I have locked them in, so that they cannot easily get out
of it.”
“Did they hear the key turn?” asked the detective, anxiously.
“I was very quiet, and I think they did not hear the movement. If
you are right in your conjecture, they have thrown themselves into
our hands; their being together in that room is an additional proof of
their guilt.”
 “Undoubtedly. They are trapped. What’s that?” cried the detective,
suddenly.
“What?” asked Frederick, following the detective’s startled glance,
which was directed towards the first-floor window of No. 119.
“A flash! There! Another! Do you see it? By God, sir! they have set
fire to the house! Ah, here is Parrock,” he said, turning to the man
who had run quickly to his side. “What news?”
“The house is on fire,” said the man, who was out of breath with
fast running.
“Any fool can see that. Get to the back of the house instantly. Take
another man with you, and arrest every person who attempts to
escape.” Parrock disappeared. By this time the flames were rushing
out of the front window of the first floor. “Fire! Fire!” cried the
detective. “The neighbourhood is roused already. Stand close by the
street door, sir, and don’t let Pelham slip you. He has set fire to the
house, and hopes to escape in the confusion. Leave all the rest to
me. There is the door of 118 opening, and there is your young lady,
sir, safe and sound. I wish you joy. Waste as little time as possible on
her. Your first thought must be for your father’s murderers.”
As Frederick passed to the street door of 119 he caught Blanche’s
hand, and she accompanied him. He stooped and kissed her.
“Thank God, you are safe,” he said. “Our troubles are over. I have
found my father’s Will and diary. Pelham is the murderer; he is in
this house now—hunted down.”
“Hark!” cried Blanche, clinging to him. “There is some one else in
the house. That is a woman’s scream!”
It was a scream of terrible anguish, uttered by a woman in a
moment of supreme despair. Every face turned white as that awful
cry floated from the burning building.
 CHAPTER XLV.
RETRIBUTION.

W HEN Frederick Holdfast turned the key in the lock, Pelham

raised his head, and looked in alarm at Mrs. Holdfast. She,
also, hearing the sound, slightly raised herself from the bed upon
which she was reclining and looked into Pelham’s face. Dazed with
fear, they remained thus, transfixed, gazing at each other, and did
not speak for full a minute. Then Pelham, with his finger on his lips,
looked upward to the ceiling, in the supposition that the sound had
proceeded from above. For full another minute neither of them
moved.
“Did you hear anything?” asked Pelham, in a whisper. “Speak low.”
“Yes,” she replied, trembling with fear.
“What do you think it was?”
“God knows,” said the terrified woman. “You told me no person
was in the house.”
“Nor has there been,” he said, “nor is there, I believe. But there
may be rats. We will give up the house to them. What are you
staring at, you fool?” he cried, turning swiftly round.
“I thought I saw a shadow moving behind you,” she whispered.
“There’s nothing here.”
“No, it’s gone. It was my fancy. Pelham, I am frightened.”
“What did you come here for? I advised you to go home, but you
had the devil in you, and would have your way. Let us make an end
of this. In mischief’s name, what’s the matter with you now?”
“Hush!” she exclaimed, seizing his hand.
“Well, what is it?” he demanded roughly.
“I heard a whistle outside.”
“What of that? Boys whistling in the streets are common enough.”
 “It was not a boy whistling. It was a shrill sound, as though some
one was calling men about him.”
“Or calling a cab.”
“Hark! there it is again.”
These were the two whistles by which Frederick summoned the
detective.
“It is not a boy whistling a tune,” said Pelham, “nor a summons for
a cab. I don’t suppose it concerns us, but you have succeeded in
putting a stop to my work. I’ll do no more. Your dead husband’s Will,
if he made one, and anything else he wrote, will soon be out of
reach of living man. Now for the finishing touches.”
He poured the spirit about the room, and saturated some sheets
of paper with it, placing them beneath the boards in such a way as
to produce an effectual blaze the moment a light was applied to
them.
“I am quite an artist,” he said, laughing. “In five minutes there will
be a conflagration which will spread too rapidly for a fire engine to
extinguish until everything on this floor at least is burnt to ashes.
Grace, old girl, this is a business that suits me; I was never meant
for milk-and-water work. The house on fire, and we a mile away, and
all danger will be over.”
His gleeful tone jarred upon his guilty associate.
“Work in silence,” she said, with a shudder. “Do you forget what
was done in this room the last time we were here together?”
“Forget!” he exclaimed. “No, I shall never forget. But it does not
trouble me. Every man for himself—it is nature’s law, and he is a fool
who allows himself to be trampled on and ruined, when he has the
opportunity of putting his enemy out of the way. Well, it is done, and
I am going to reap. These last twelve months I have led the life of a
dog; now I’ll live like a gentleman. There! everything is ready. Now
for escape. Grace, you go first to the top of the house, and wait for
me. The moment I set fire to this rubbish, I will join you. We will get
back into the next house, where there will be plenty of people to
help to save the furniture; we will mix with them, and in the
confusion slip off. A kiss, Grace, for luck!”
 They kissed each other, and she went to the door, and turned the
handle, but could not open the door. It was fast.
“My God!” she screamed. “We are locked in!”
The full meaning of this flashed instantly upon them.
“Trapped!” cried Pelham, savagely.
He knew well that the game was up, and that nothing short of a
miracle would save him. The sound they had heard was the clicking
of the lock; the whistles they had heard were a summons to their
pursuers. While they had deemed themselves safe, enemies had
been watching them. They were caught in their own trap.
Pelham strove to force the door open, but had not sufficient
strength.
“I am as weak as a rat,” he muttered hoarsely, “but there is still a
chance.”
He tore the sheets from the bed, and in an incredibly short space
of time, working like a madman, knotted them together. His design
was to escape from the house by the back window, but he could find
no hold for his rope within the room. As he looked eagerly around he
felt himself seized by Grace.
“Save me!” she cried, hysterically. “It is there again—the Shadow
of the man we murdered!”
He shook her off, and in her terror, she slipped back, and
overturned the candlestick, which was on the floor, with a lighted
candle in it. The light instantly communicated itself to the spirit and
inflammable matter which Pelham had scattered about, and the next
moment the room was in a blaze. Vainly did Pelham strive to beat
out the fire. Blinded by the smoke, and the flames which presently
enveloped them, they staggered and stumbled in their tomb of fire,
and then it was that Grace gave utterance to the terrible cry of
anguish which drove the blood from the cheeks of the crowd of
people surging in Great Porter Square.
 CHAPTER XLVI.
IN WHICH THE “EVENING MOON” GIVES A SEQUEL TO ITS “ROMANCE IN REAL
LIFE.”

W E have much pleasure (said the Evening Moon, two days after
the fire) in presenting our readers with the last act of a drama
which, in plot, incident, and extraordinary development of character,
equals anything in the way of sensationalism which has ever graced
theatrical boards. The opportunity is an agreeable one to us, as it
enables us to do justice to a gentleman who has had reason to
complain of what has appeared in our columns concerning him.
What we have to say resolves itself into something more than the
last act of a drama; it is both that and the commencement of a
Sequel which, in all human probability, and because of the nature of
the persons engaged in it, will have a happier ending than that
which has been closed by the burning down of the house, No. 119,
Great Porter Square.
In our yesterday’s issues we gave the full particulars of that fire.
No one was injured except the two wretched beings who met their
just and awful fate in the grave they had prepared for themselves.
They have passed away from this world, but it will be long before
the memory of their crime and its involvements will be forgotten. It
has been determined to pull down the fatal house in which the
murder was committed, and to rebuild it anew. The house next to it,
No. 118, occupied by Mrs. Preedy, lodging-house keeper, received
some damage from the fire; but Mrs. Preedy is fully insured, and her
loss will be a gain to her—a paradox, but strictly accurate, for the
murder in the adjoining house had brought hers into disrepute, and
her business was languishing. It will revive now that the fire has
burnt out the terror of the crime; and the worthy Mrs. Preedy may
congratulate herself upon having gained friends in the persons of Mr.
Frederick Holdfast and the intrepid, noble-hearted lady who will
shortly bear his name.
In Mrs. Preedy’s house lived an old bedridden lady, Mrs. Bailey,
whose life was with some difficulty saved. She herself placed serious
obstacles in the way of her preservation, screaming out when they
attempted to remove her from her bed. She clung to this household
god with such tenacity that there was nothing for it but to humour
the old lady, and to remove it with her. As they carried it down
stairs, the covering was by an accident ripped, and there rolled out
of it between thirty and forty sovereigns, which Mrs. Bailey had
hoarded up since the death of her husband, an event which occurred
Heaven knows how many years ago. The distress of the old lady was
extreme, but the gold was picked up and returned to its owner,
minus a few sovereigns, which somehow had stuck to the fingers of
the searchers. She is, however, no loser by the accident, as Mr.
Frederick Holdfast made good the deficiency. It is satisfactory to
learn that a cherished tradition current in Great Porter Square, that
the old lady’s mattress was stuffed with gold, was verified by the
ripping of the sacking. Mrs. Bailey will no doubt find another safe for
her treasure in the future. The bedridden old lady sustained a loss in
the burning of a linnet without a note to its voice, and a very old
bull-finch, whose cage hung at the foot of her bed—a sacrifice of
life, in addition to the more terrible sacrifice of two human beings,
which we were almost forgetting to mention.
In another part of our paper will be found a full report of the
proceedings at the inquest upon the bodies of the man and woman,
which were found in the back room of No. 119, Great Porter Square.
The inquest was held this morning, and a verdict of accidental death
by burning was returned. As a rule such inquests are dull, miserable
affairs, and there is but little variety in the evidence presented to the
coroner and his panel, but in this special case were elements of
unexpected romance which raised it far above the ordinary level of a
simple death by misadventure.
Last evening a private note was sent to our office, signed by
Frederick Holdfast, requesting as an act of justice, that the Special
Reporter who wrote “The Romance of Real Life” from Mrs. Holdfast’s
account of her career and misfortunes, should attend and take
whatever notice of the proceedings he might deem fit and proper. In
accordance with the request our Special Reporter attended, and the
present report is written by him for our paper. The disclosures which
were made at the inquest were as interesting as they were
surprising, and our Reporter thanks Mr. Frederick Holdfast for the
opportunity afforded him of being present.
At the inquest our Reporter renewed his acquaintance with Mr.
Goldberry, solicitor, a gentleman whose name will be remembered as
having voluntarily come forward to defend Antony Cowlrick at the
Martin Street Police Court, when, upon the barest suspicion, without
a tittle of direct evidence, that person was accused by the police of
the murder of a man unknown in No. 119, Great Porter Square. Our
readers will remember how stoutly, and under what disadvantages,
Mr. Goldberry defended the man wrongfully accused of the crime;
how he protested against the numerous remands, and lifted up his
voice in the cause of justice against Scotland Yard officialism; and
how at length, to the manifest chagrin of the police, Antony Cowlrick
was discharged from custody. The particulars of the interview which
took place in Leicester Square, a few minutes after Antony Cowlrick’s
departure from the Police Court, between our Reporter, Mr.
Goldberry, and the accused man, was fully reported in our columns.
In that interview our Reporter lent Antony Cowlrick a sovereign,
which was faithfully repaid. We purpose reprinting in a pamphlet
that report and the “Romance in Real Life,” in addition to what
appears in our present issue relating to the case. They are worthy of
a record in a more permanent form than the columns of a
newspaper.
“Do you remember,” said Mr. Goldberry to our Reporter, referring
to that interview, “that Antony Cowlrick said to me that if at any time
he should need my services, he would call upon or send for me?”
“I do,” replied our Reporter, “and I remember, also, that Antony
Cowlrick asked you if you thought God would allow the guilty to
escape, or that He needed the assistance of a lawyer to punish the
man who shed another’s blood.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Goldberry, gravely, “he used those words, and in
this case they are justified by events. God has punished the
murderers without the assistance of a lawyer.”
“Why do you recall the name of Antony Cowlrick?” inquired our
Reporter.
“Because I am here to represent him. He has not only paid me for
my past services—forcing the money upon me—but he has thanked
me for them, which, in the bitterness of his heart, he declined to do,
although he was not asked, when he was finally discharged.”
“I had a suspicion,” remarked our Reporter, “at that time that he
was a gentleman; he spoke like one, and had the manner of one. It
was chiefly for that reason I took an interest in him.”
“No, no,” said Mr. Goldberry, jocosely; “you wanted copy. Every
man to his trade.”
“I could retort with good effect,” said our Reporter, good-
humouredly, “but I spare you. Will Antony Cowlrick be here this
morning?”
“Yes, and others whom you know.”
At this moment a lady and a gentleman entered the room in which
the inquest was held, and advancing to Mr. Goldberry shook hands
with him. The gentleman was Antony Cowlrick, who, after a few
words with his lawyer, turned, and offered his hand to our Reporter.
“I must apologise,” he said, “for not having kept the half-
appointment I made with you on the day you so generously lent me
the sovereign in Leicester Square, but I had my reasons, which you
will understand when I tell you as much of my story as I think it
proper for you to know.”
“I attend here,” said our Reporter, “on behalf of my paper, in
response to a letter sent to our editor by Mr. Frederick Holdfast.”
“I am Frederick Holdfast,” said the gentleman. “Antony Cowlrick
was an assumed name; I could not use my own when I was falsely
accused of the murder of my father.”
 He turned aside with quivering lips, and our Reporter, holding his
grief in respect, did not intrude upon it. The face of the lady who
accompanied Frederick Holdfast appeared singularly familiar to our
Reporter, and his curiosity was presently appeased by Mr. Goldberry,
who informed him that she was the lady who, by the happiest of
chances, met Mr. Frederick Holdfast in Leicester Square after his
discharge.
“Were she willing to allow herself to be used in such a way,”
observed the lawyer, “her photograph to-morrow could be sold in
thousands all over England. But she does not belong to that class of
woman. She is a heroine, in the truest sense of the word. Mrs.
Holdfast, who supplied you with a Romance in Real Life fit for a
novel instead of the columns of a newspaper, would not, in such
circumstances as these, have withstood the temptation. But there
are women and women.”
“I grant you,” said our Reporter, “that I was deceived in the
character of Mrs. Holdfast. Am I the first who has been beguiled by
the soft speeches of a fair woman? And, my dear sir, if you want
novels and romances, take my word for it, you cannot do better than
go to the columns of a newspaper for them. What has become of
Mrs. Holdfast’s baby?”
“The child will be cared for,” replied Mr. Goldberry, “by Frederick
Holdfast, and will be brought up in ignorance of her mother’s
crimes.”
The proceedings at the inquest commenced languidly, but were
soon brightened by the extraordinary revelations made by the
witnesses. The bodies of the two persons burnt to death were
identified, and then evidence was given, in dramatic sequence, in
proof that, at the time of their death, the deceased were engaged in
unlawful proceedings, and that the male deceased had formed a
deliberate plan for setting fire to the house.
Mrs. Preedy, lodging-house keeper, deposed to the letting of a
furnished attic to a man who gave the name of Richard Manx, and
who spoke like a foreigner. The rent of this attic was three shillings a
week, but she had never seen the colour of Richard Manx’s money;
he “gave out” to her that he was very poor; she had no doubt he
was the man who was found dead in the next house; neither had
she any doubt that it was he who had spread the report that her
house was haunted, and that he did it to ruin her. This witness
rambled in her evidence, and caused great laughter by her irrelevant
replies to questions.
Mrs. Whittaker, lodging-house keeper in Buckingham Palace Road,
deposed to the letting of her first-floor to Mr. Pelham at a rental of
three guineas per week. He paid his rent regularly, and she believed
him to be a gentleman of considerable means. She recognised the
body of the male deceased as Mr. Pelham.
The principal detective employed by Mr. Frederick Holdfast
testified that the male body was that of Richard Manx, otherwise
Pelham, a notorious blackleg; that he had lodged at No. 118, Great
Porter Square as Richard Manx, and in Buckingham Palace Road as
Mr. Pelham; that he (the detective) was employed to watch the
deceased on suspicion that he was implicated in the murder of Mr.
Holdfast, senior; that on the night of the fire he saw a female enter
118, Great Porter Square, in the company of the deceased; and that
this female was Mrs. Holdfast, widow of the gentleman who had
been murdered some months ago.
A sensation was then caused by the appearance of Mr. Frederick
Holdfast as a witness. He recognised the bodies as those of Mr.
Pelham and Mrs. Holdfast, his father’s second wife. Before his father
contracted a second marriage he had an acquaintance with the
deceased persons in Oxford. Mr. Pelham was a blackleg, and had
been expelled from the company of gentlemen for cheating with
dice; and Mrs. Holdfast was a woman not entitled to respect. The
witness, in reply to questions put by his lawyer, Mr. Goldberry, said
he was the man who, under the name of Antony Cowlrick, had been
wrongfully charged at the Martin Street Police-court with the murder
of a gentleman, who, it was now known, was his father; and that he
had in his possession evidence in his father’s handwriting which
proved, beyond the possibility of doubt, that his father had been
murdered by one or both of the deceased. The other portions of this
witness’s evidence, relating to his taking possession of the house
No. 119 Great Porter Square, and to the watch he set upon Mr.
Pelham’s movements, are fully detailed in our verbatim report of the
inquest, and will be found most startling and dramatic.
Even more dramatic was the evidence of the next witness,
Blanche Daffarn, Mr. Frederick Holdfast’s fiancée, a young lady of
great personal attractions. For the purpose of clearing her lover from
the dreadful accusation brought against him, she had disguised
herself as a servant, and had taken service as a maid-of-all-work
with Mrs. Preedy. It was through her instrumentality that Pelham
and Richard Manx were discovered to be one and the same person,
and had it not been for her courage and devotion there is but little
doubt that the guilty ones would have escaped. She gave her
evidence with clearness and modesty, and she was frequently
interrupted by murmurs of applause, which the Coroner did not
attempt to suppress.
It might have been supposed that the climax of interest was
reached when the fair witness, towards whom every face in the
room was turned in admiration, took her seat; but it was not; a
higher point was attained upon the appearance of a little girl, a mere
child, whom our Reporter at once recognised as Fanny, a match girl,
with whom our readers have already made acquaintance. The
brightness, the vivacity, and the adventures of this little waif in
connection with the case, no less than her sensibility and gratitude
towards her guardian angel, Miss Blanche Daffarn, produced a
profound impression. It would be hard to say whether tears or
smiles predominated while this intelligent and grateful child stood
before the Coroner; both were freely produced by the wonderful
touches of nature which gleamed through little Fanny’s narrative,
which she was allowed to relate almost without interruption from
Coroner and jury. It is pleasant to be able to state that Fanny’s
future is made safe; Mr. Frederick Holdfast and his fiancée are her
protectors. The child is rescued from the gin shop and the gutter.
The inquest was over, and still the persons in the crowded room
lingered for a parting glance at those who had played their parts in
the strange and varied drama. The interest in the proceedings had
extended beyond the Court, and a large concourse of persons had
gathered outside, eager to see the brave young lady and the child,
whose names will be mentioned in terms of admiration in every
home in the kingdom. Such is the power of the newspaper. To
convey to remote distances, into village and city, to the firesides of
the poor and the rich, the records of ennobling deeds, and to cause
“God bless you little Fanny!” “May you live happy lives, Frederick and
Blanche!” to be breathed by the millions whose hearts shall be
stirred by this story of love and crime, of cunning which over-
reached itself and suffering which blossomed into sweetness, the
last scenes of which were enacted in a common lodging-house in
Great Porter Square.

THE END.

Transcriber’s note

Punctuation errors have been corrected silently. Also the

following corrections have been made, on page
iv “XLIV” changed to “XLVI” (XLVI.—In which the “Evening
Moon” gives a sequel)
12 “be” changed to “he” (in secret to kill the father he
betrayed!)
23 “the the” changed to “the” (raised the child’s head)
32 “sindirect” changed to “indirect” (in an indirect way)
50 “were” changed to “where” (into the shop where people
are served)
84 “Mr.” changed to “Mrs.” (gave her to deliver to Mrs.
Holdfast)
165 “thoughful” changed to “thoughtful” (Kind, thoughtful
husband)
189 “a” changed to “as” (in as few words as possible)
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