"It was queer
enough what I saw; a man is sauntering along a quiet, sober, every-day
London street, a street of gray houses and blank walls, and there, for a
moment, a veil seems drawn aside, and the very fume of the pit steams up
through the flagstones, the ground glows, red hot, beneath his feet, and
he seems to hear the hiss of the infernal caldron. A man flying in mad
terror for his life, and furious hate pressing hot on his steps with
knife drawn ready; here indeed is horror. But what is all that to what
you have told me? I tell you, Phillipps, I see the plot thicken, our
steps will henceforth be dogged with mystery, and the most ordinary
incidents will teem with significance. You may stand out against it, and
shut your eyes, but they will be forced open; mark my words, you will
have to yield to the inevitable. A clue, tangled if you like, has been
placed by chance in our hands; it will be our business to follow it up. As for the guilty person or persons in this strange case, they will be
unable to escape us, our nets will be spread far and wide over this
great city, and suddenly, in the streets and places of public resort, we
shall in some way or other be made aware that we are in touch with the
unknown criminal. Indeed, I almost fancy I see him slowly approaching
this quiet square of yours; he is loitering at street corners,
wandering, apparently without aim, down far-reaching thoroughfares, but
all the while coming nearer and nearer, drawn by an irresistible
magnetism, as ships were drawn to the Loadstone Rock in the Eastern
tale." "I certainly think," replied Phillipps, "that, if you pull out that coin
and flourish it under people's noses as you are doing at the present
moment, you will very probably find yourself in touch with the criminal,
or a criminal. You will undoubtedly be robbed with violence. Otherwise,
I see no reason why either of us should be troubled. No one saw you
secure the coin, and no one knows you have it. I, for my part, shall
sleep peacefully, and go about my business with a sense of security and
a firm dependence on the natural order of things. The events of the
evening, the adventure in the street, have been odd, I grant you, but I
resolutely decline to have any more to do with the matter, and, if
necessary, I shall consult the police. I will not be enslaved by a gold
Tiberius, even though it swims into my ken in a manner which is somewhat
melodramatic." "And I for my part," said Dyson, "go forth like a knight-errant in
search of adventure. Not that I shall need to seek; rather adventure
will seek me; I shall be like a spider in the midst of his web,
responsive to every movement, and ever on the alert." Shortly afterwards Dyson took his leave, and Mr. Phillipps spent the
rest of the night in examining some flint arrow-heads which he had
purchased. He had every reason to believe that they were the work of a
modern and not a palæolithic man, still he was far from gratified when a
close scrutiny showed him that his suspicions were well founded. In his
anger at the turpitude which would impose on an ethnologist, he
completely forgot Dyson and the gold Tiberius; and when he went to bed
at first sunlight, the whole tale had faded utterly from his thoughts. THE ENCOUNTER OF THE PAVEMENT. Mr. Dyson, walking leisurely along Oxford. Street, and staring with
bland inquiry at whatever caught his attention, enjoyed in all its rare
flavors the sensation that he was really very hard at work. His
observation of mankind, the traffic, and the shop-windows tickled his
faculties with an exquisite bouquet; he looked serious, as one looks on
whom charges of weight and moment are laid, and he was attentive in his
glances to right and left, for fear lest he should miss some
circumstance of more acute significance. He had narrowly escaped being
run over at a crossing by a charging van, for he hated to hurry his
steps, and indeed the afternoon was warm; and he had just halted by a
place of popular refreshment, when the astounding gestures of a well
dressed individual on the opposite pavement held him enchanted and
gasping like a fish. A treble line of hansoms, carriages, vans, cabs,
and omnibuses, was tearing east and west, and not the most daring
adventurer of the crossings would have cared to try his fortune; but the
person who had attracted Dyson's attention seemed to rage on the very
edge of the pavement, now and then darting forward at the hazard of
instant death, and at each repulse absolutely dancing with excitement,
to the rich amusement of the passers-by. At last, a gap that would, have
tried the courage of a street-boy appeared between the serried lines of
vehicles, and the man rushed across in a frenzy, and escaping by a
hair's breadth pounced upon Dyson as a tiger pounces on her prey. "I saw
you looking about you," he said, sputtering out his words in his intense
eagerness; "would you mind telling me this? Was the man who came out of
the Aerated Bread Shop and jumped, into the hansom three minutes ago a
youngish looking man with dark whiskers and spectacles? Can't you speak,
man? For Heaven's sake can't you speak? Answer me; it's a matter of life
and death." The words bubbled and boiled out of the man's mouth in the fury of his
emotion, his face went from red to white, and the beads of sweat stood
out on his forehead, and he stamped his feet as he spoke and tore with
his hand at his coat, as if something swelled and choked him, stopping
the passage of his breath. "My dear sir," said Dyson, "I always like to be accurate. Your
observation was perfectly correct. As you say, a youngish man, a man, I
should say, of somewhat timid bearing, ran rapidly out of the shop here,
and bounced into a hansom that must have been waiting for him, as it
went eastwards at once. Your friend also wore spectacles, as you say. Perhaps you would like me to call a hansom for you to follow the
gentleman?" "No, thank you; it would be waste of time." The man gulped down
something which appeared to rise in his throat, and Dyson was alarmed to
see him shaking with hysterical laughter, and he clung hard to a
lamp-post and swayed and staggered like a ship in a heavy gale. "How shall I face the doctor?" he murmured to himself. "It is too hard
to fail at the last moment." Then he seemed to recollect himself, and
stood straight again, and looked quietly at Dyson. I owe you an apology
for my violence, he said at last. "Many men would not be so patient as
you have been. Would you mind adding to your kindness by walking with me
a little way? I feel a little sick; I think it's the sun." Dyson nodded assent, and devoted himself to a quiet scrutiny of this
strange personage as they moved on together. The man was dressed in
quiet taste, and the most scrupulous observer could find nothing amiss
with the fashion or make of his clothes, yet, from his hat to his boots,
everything seemed inappropriate.