The Greatest Works of J. M. Barrie: 90+ Titles in One Volume (Illustrated Edition). James Matthew Barrie

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СКАЧАТЬ as always being on the outlook for someone who did not come.

      Why attempt to account for the nameless fascination he exercised over the young Scotchman? We speak lightly of mesmeric influence, but, after all, there is only one mesmerist for youth—a good woman or a good man. Depend upon it, that is why so many "mesmerists" have mistaken their vocation. Andrew took to prowling about the streets looking for this man, like a dog that has lost its master.

      The day came when they met.

      Andrew was returning from the Crystal Palace, which he had been viewing from the outside. He had walked both ways. Just as he rounded the upper end of Chancery Lane, a man walking rapidly struck against him, whirled him aside, and hurried on.

      The day was done, but as yet the lamps only dimmed the streets.

      Andrew had been dreaming, and the jerk woke him to the roar of London.

      It was as if he had taken his fingers from his ears.

      He staggered, dazed, against a 'bus-horse, but the next moment he was in pursuit of the stranger. It was but a continuation of his dream. He felt that something was about to happen. He had never seen this man disturbed before.

      Chancery Lane swarmed with lawyers, but if they had not made way Andrew would have walked over them.

      He clove his way between those walking abreast, and struck down an arm extended to point out the Law Courts. When he neared the stranger, he slightly slackened his pace, but it was a stampede even then.

      Suddenly the pursued came to a dead stop and gazed for twenty minutes in at a pastry-cook's window. Andrew waited for him. Then they started off again, much more leisurely.

      They turned Chancery Lane almost together. All this time Andrew had failed to catch sight of the other's face.

      He stopped twice in the Strand for a few minutes.

      At Charing Cross he seemed for a moment at a loss. Then he sprang across the street, and went back the way he came.

      It was now for the first time that a strange notion illumined Andrew's brain. It bewildered him, and left him in darkness the next moment. But his blood was running hot now, and his eyes were glassy.

      They turned down Arundel Street.

      It was getting dark. There were not a dozen people in the narrow thoroughfare.

      His former thought leapt back into Andrew's mind—not a fancy now, but a fact. The stranger was following someone too.

      For what purpose? His own?

      Andrew did not put the question to himself.

      There were not twenty yards between the three of them.

      What Riach saw in front was a short stout man proceeding cheerfully down the street. He delayed in a doorway to light a cigar, and the stranger stopped as if turned to stone.

      Andrew stopped too.

      They were like the wheels of a watch. The first wheel moved on, and set the others going again.

      For a hundred yards or more they walked in procession in a westerly direction without meeting a human being. At last the first of the trio half turned on his heel and leant over the Embankment.

      Riach drew back into the shade, just before the stranger took a lightning glance behind him.

      The young man saw his face now. It was never fuller of noble purpose; yet why did Andrew cry out?

      The next moment the stranger had darted forward, slipped his arms round the little man's legs, and toppled him into the river.

      There was a splash but no shriek.

      Andrew bounded forward, but the stranger held him by one hand. His clear blue eyes looked down a little wistfully upon the young Scotchman, who never felt the fascination of a master-mind more than at that moment. As if feeling his power, the elder man relaxed his hold and pointed to the spot where his victim had disappeared.

      "He was a good man," he said, more to himself than to Andrew, "and the world has lost a great philanthropist; but he is better as he is."

      Then he lifted a paving-stone, and peered long and earnestly into the waters.

      The short stout man, however, did not rise again.

      Chapter III

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      Lost in reverie, the stranger stood motionless on the Embankment. The racket of the city was behind him. At his feet lay a drowned world, its lights choking in the Thames. It was London, as it will be on the last day.

      With an effort he roused himself and took Andrew's arm.

      "The body will soon be recovered," he said, in a voice of great dejection, "and people will talk. Let us go."

      They retraced their steps up Arundel Street.

      "Now," said Andrew's companion, "tell me who you are."

      Andrew would have preferred to hear who the stranger was. In the circumstances he felt that he had almost a right to know. But this was not a man to brook interference.

      "If you will answer me one question," the young Scotchman said humbly, "I shall tell you everything."

      His reveries had made Andrew quick-witted, and he had the judicial mind which prevents one's judging another rashly. Besides, his hankering after this man had already suggested an exculpation for him.

      "You are a Radical?" he asked eagerly.

      The stranger's brows contracted. "Young man," he said, "though all the Radicals, and Liberals, and Conservatives who ever addressed the House of Commons were in ——, I would not stoop to pick them up, though I could gather them by the gross."

      He said this without an Irish accent, and Andrew felt that he had better begin his story at once.

      He told everything.

      As his tale neared its conclusion his companion scanned him narrowly.

      If the stranger's magnanimous countenance did not beam down in sympathy upon the speaker, it was because surprise and gratification filled it.

      Only once an ugly look came into his eyes. That was when Andrew had reached the middle of his second testimonial.

      The young man saw the look, and at the same time felt the hold on his arm become a grip.

      His heart came into his mouth. He gulped it down, and, with what was perhaps a judicious sacrifice, jumped the remainder of his testimonials.

      When the stranger heard how he had been tracked through the streets, he put his head to the side to think.

      It was a remarkable compliment to his abstraction that Andrew paused involuntarily СКАЧАТЬ