“Meanwhile trade gradually increased.  The harmless coster and laborer began to be varied by customers rather more in my line; in fact, I had not quite completed my arrangements when I got the first windfall.

“It was a Wednesday evening.  I had nearly finished shaving a large, military-looking laborer when the door opened very quietly and a seedy, middle-aged man entered and sat down.  His movements were silent—­almost stealthy; and, when he had seated himself, he picked up a newspaper from behind which I saw him steal furtive and suspicious glances at the patient in the operating chair.  The latter, being scraped clean, rose to depart, and the newcomer underwent a total eclipse behind the newspaper.

“’Oo’s ‘e?’ he demanded, when the laborer was safely outside.

“‘I don’t know him,’ I replied, ’but I should say, by his hands, a laborer.’

“‘Looked rather like a copper,’ said my customer.  He took his place in the vacated chair with a laconic ‘’Air cut,’ and then became conversational.

“‘So you’ve took on Polensky’s job?’

“I nodded at the mirror that faced us (Polensky was my predecessor) and he continued, ‘Polensky’s doing time, ain’t he?’

“I believed he was and said so, and my friend then asked: 

“‘Young Pongo ever come in here now?’

“Naturally I had never heard of young Pongo, but I felt that I must not appear too ignorant.  It were better to invent a little.

“‘Pongo,’ I ruminated; ’Pongo.  Is that the fellow who was with Joe Bartels in that job at—­er—­you know?’

“‘No, I don’t,’ said my friend.  ’And ‘oo’s Joe Bartels?’

“’Oh, I thought you knew him; but if you don’t I’d better say no more.  You see, I don’t know who you are.’

“’Don’t yer.  Then I’ll tell yer.  I’m Spotty Bamber, of Spitalfields, that’s ‘oo I am.  So now you know.’

“I made a mental note of the name (the first part of which had apparently been suggested by Mr. Bamber’s complexion) and my attention must have wandered somewhat, for my patient suddenly shouted:  “Ere!  I say!  I didn’t come ’ere to be scalped.  I come to ’ave my ‘air cut.’

“I apologized and led the conversation back to Polensky.

“‘Ah,’ said Bamber, ’’e was a downy un, ’e was.  Bit too downy.  Opened his mouth too wide.  Wanted it all for nix.  That was why he got peached on—­’ Here Spotty turned his head with a jerk—­’What are you looking at me through that thing for?  My ‘ed ain’t as small as all that.’

“‘That thing’ was a Coddington lens, through which I examined the hair of every customer with a view to identification.  But I did not tell Mr. Bamber this.  My explanation was recondite and rather obscure, but it seemed to satisfy him.

“‘Well,’ he said, ’you’re a rum cove.  Talk like a blooming toff too, you do.’  I made a careful mental note of that fact and determined to study the local dialect.  Meanwhile I explained, ’I wasn’t always a hairdresser, you know.’