“That checked me.  ‘Perhaps he has sons?’ I asked.

“‘Not any,’ the man answered; ‘there’s nobody but their two selves.’

“So, with that, I told him what I wanted—­that a lady and gentleman had alighted there in a cab that day, and I wished to know his name.  Well, Mr. Carlyle, I could get at nothing satisfactory; the fellow said that a great many had called there that day, for his master was just up from a long illness, and people came to see him.”

“Is that all, Richard?”

“All!  I wish it had been all.  I kept looking about for him in all the best streets; I was half mad—­”

“Do you not wonder, if he is in this position of life, and resides in London, that you have never dropped upon him previously?” interrupted Mr. Carlyle.

“No, sir; and I’ll tell you why.  I have been afraid to show myself in those latter parts of the town, fearing I might meet with some one I used to know at home, who would recognize me, so I have kept mostly in obscure places—­stables and such like.  I had gone up to the West End this day on a matter of business.”

“Well, go on with your story.”

“In a week’s time I came upon him again.  It was at night.  He was coming out of one of the theatres, and I went up and stood before him.”

“‘What do you want, fellow?’ he asked.  ’I have seen you watching me before this.’

“‘I want to know your name,’ I said, ‘that’s enough for me at present.’

“He flew into a passion, and swore that if ever he caught sight of me near him again he would hand me over into custody.  ’And remember, men are not given into custody for watching others,’ he significantly added.  ’I know you, and if you have any regard for yourself, you’ll keep out of my way.’

“He had got into a private carriage as he spoke, and it drove away; I could see that it had a great coat-of-arms upon it.”

“When do you say this was?”

“A week ago.  Well, I could not rest; I was half mad, I say, and went about, still trying if I could not discover his name and who he was.  I did come upon him, but he was walking quickly, arm-in-arm with—­with another gentleman.  Again I saw him, standing at the entrance to the betting rooms, talking to the same gentleman, and his face turned savage—­I believe with fear as much as anger—­when he discerned me.  He seemed to hesitate, and then—­as if he acted in a passion—­suddenly beckoned to a policeman, pointed me out, and said something to him in a fast tone.  That frightened me, and I slipped away.  Two hours after, when I was in quite a different part of the town, in turning my head I saw the same policeman following me.  I bolted under the horses of a passing vehicle, down some turnings and passages, out into another street, and up beside a cabman who was on his box, driving a fare past.  I reached my lodgings in safety, as I thought, but happening to glance into the street, there I saw the man again, standing opposite, and reconnoitering the house.  I had gone home hungry, but this took all my hunger away from me.  I opened the box where I kept my disguise, put it on, and got out by a back way.  I have been pretty nearly ever since on my feet reaching here; I only got a lift now and then.”