There was no moon, and as we
passed the lamp and paused we stood in almost total darkness.
Facing in the direction of the Council School I struck a match.
It revealed my ruffianly looking companion--in whom his nearest
friends must have failed to recognize Mr. Paul Harley of Chancery
Lane.
He was glancing furtively back along the street, and when a
moment later we moved on, I too, had detected the presence of a
figure stumbling toward us.
"Don't stop at the door," whispered Harley, for our follower was
only a few yards away.
Accordingly we passed the house in which Harley had rooms, and
had proceeded some fifteen paces farther when the man who was
following us stumbled in between Harley and myself, clutching an
arm of either. I scarcely knew what to expect, but was prepared
for anything, when:
"Mates!" said a man huskily. "Mates, if you know where I can get
a drink, take me there!"
Harley laughed shortly. I cannot say if he remained suspicious
of the newcomer, but for my own part I had determined after one
glance at the man that he was merely a drunken fireman newly
recovered from a prolonged debauch.
"Where 'ave yer been, old son?" growled Harley, in that wonderful
dialect of his which I had so often and so vainly sought to
cultivate.
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