Chance

Our new acquaintance advanced now from the mantelpiece with his pipe in

good working order.

"What was the most remarkable about Powell," he enunciated dogmatically

with his head in a cloud of smoke, "is that he should have had just that

name. You see, my name happens to be Powell too."

It was clear that this intelligence was not imparted to us for social

purposes. It required no acknowledgment. We continued to gaze at him

with expectant eyes.

He gave himself up to the vigorous enjoyment of his pipe for a silent

minute or two. Then picking up the thread of his story he told us how he

had started hot foot for Tower Hill. He had not been that way since the

day of his examination--the finest day of his life--the day of his

overweening pride. It was very different now. He would not have called

the Queen his cousin, still, but this time it was from a sense of

profound abasement. He didn't think himself good enough for anybody's

kinship. He envied the purple-nosed old cab-drivers on the stand, the

boot-black boys at the edge of the pavement, the two large bobbies pacing

slowly along the Tower Gardens railings in the consciousness of their

infallible might, and the bright scarlet sentries walking smartly to and

fro before the Mint. He envied them their places in the scheme of

world's labour. And he envied also the miserable sallow, thin-faced

loafers blinking their obscene eyes and rubbing their greasy shoulders

against the door-jambs of the Black Horse pub, because they were too far

gone to feel their degradation.

I must render the man the justice that he conveyed very well to us the

sense of his youthful hopelessness surprised at not finding its place in

the sun and no recognition of its right to live.

He went up the outer steps of St. Katherine's Dock House, the very steps

from which he had some six weeks before surveyed the cabstand, the

buildings, the policemen, the boot-blacks, the paint, gilt, and

plateglass of the Black Horse, with the eye of a Conqueror. At the time

he had been at the bottom of his heart surprised that all this had not

greeted him with songs and incense, but now (he made no secret of it) he

made his entry in a slinking fashion past the doorkeeper's glass box. "I

hadn't any half-crowns to spare for tips," he remarked grimly. The man,

however, ran out after him asking: "What do you require?" but with a

grateful glance up at the first floor in remembrance of Captain R-'s

examination room (how easy and delightful all that had been) he bolted

down a flight leading to the basement and found himself in a place of

dusk and mystery and many doors. He had been afraid of being stopped by

some rule of no-admittance. However he was not pursued.