The Man Upon the Pavement

"What's it all about, old chap?" he exclaimed, falling into the manners of the street. "Why have you been hurrying yourself on my account?"

"To give you this letter, sir, and to ask you to accompany me."

Alban whistled, but took the note nevertheless and tore it open with trembling fingers. He thought that he recognized the handwriting, but was not sure. When he had read the letter through, he turned to the man and said that he would go with him.

"Then I will call a hansom, sir."

The detective blew a shrill whistle, and a hansom immediately tried to cannon an omnibus, and succeeding came skidding to the pavement. The two men entered without a word to each other; but to the driver the direction was Hampstead Heath. He, wise merchant, demurred with chosen phrase of weight, until a fare was named and then lashed his horse triumphantly.

"My lucky's in," he cried to a friend upon another box, "it's a quid if I ain't bilked."

Alban meanwhile took a cigarette from a paper packet, and asked his companion for a light. When he struck it an observer would have noticed that his hand was still shaking.

"Did you go down yonder?" he asked, indicating generally the neighborhood east of Aldgate.

"Searched every coffee shop in Whitechapel, sir."

"Ah, you weren't lucky. I have been living three days on Hampstead Heath."

"On Hampstead Heath? My godfather, I wish I'd known."