The Amateur Gentleman

Number Five St. James's Square was to let; its many windows were

blank and shuttered, its portal, which scarcely a week ago had been

besieged by Fashion, was barred and bolted, the Gentleman-in-Powder

had vanished quite, and with him the glory of Number Five St.

James's Square had departed utterly.

Barnabas paused to let his gaze wander over it, from roof to pavement,

then, smiling a little bitterly, buried his chin in the folds of his

belcher neckerchief and thrusting his hands deep into his pockets,

turned and went his way.

And as he went, smiling still, and still a little bitterly, he needs

must remember and vaguely wonder what had become of all that Polite

notepaper, and all those Fashionable cards, embossed, gilt-edged,

and otherwise, that had been wont to pour upon him every morning,

and which had so rejoiced the highly susceptible and eloquent legs

of the Gentleman-in-Powder.

Evening was falling and the square seemed deserted save for a

solitary man in a neckcloth of vivid hue, a dejected-looking man who

lounged against the wall under the shade of the trees in the middle

of the square, and seemed lost in contemplation of his boots. And

yet when Barnabas, having traversed Charles Street and turned into

the Haymarket, chanced to look back, he saw that the man was

lounging dejectedly after him. Therefore Barnabas quickened his steps,

and, reaching the crowded Strand, hurried on through the bustling

throng; but just beyond Temple Bar, caught a glimpse of the vivid

neckcloth on the opposite side of the road. Up Chancery Lane and

across Holborn went Barnabas, yet, as he turned down Leather Lane,

there, sure enough, was the man in the neckcloth as dejected as ever,

but not twelve yards behind.

Half-way down crowded Leather Lane Barnabas turned off down a less

frequented street and halting just beyond the corner, waited for his

pursuer to come up. And presently round the corner he came and, in

his hurry, very nearly stumbled over Barnabas, who promptly reached

out a long arm and pinned him by the vivid neckcloth.

"Why do you follow me?" he demanded.

"Foller you?" repeated the man.

"You have been following me all the way."

"Have I?" said the man.

"You know you have. Come, what do you want?"

"Well, first," said the man, sighing dejectedly, "leggo my neck,

will ye be so kind?"

"Not till you tell me why you follow me."

"Why, then," said the man, "listen and I'll tell ye."

"Well?" demanded Barnabas.

But, all at once, and quick as a flash, with a wrench and a cunning

twist, the man had broken away and, taking to his heels, darted off

down the street and was gone.

For a moment Barnabas stood hesitating, undecided whether to go on

to Barrymaine's lodging or no, and finally struck off in the

opposite direction, towards Gray's Inn Lane and so by devious ways

eventually arrived at the back door of the "Gun," on which he

forthwith knocked.