and presently I heard him
shouting to the man in charge: "Hey, mister! There's a young man and
woman crouching under t'hedge oop t'ro-ad. She nowt on but a cotton
blouse! It isn't sa-afe, yer know, in this thoonder and lightnin'. Tek
her oop, and put a sack or two on her."

I gathered the result of the interview was satisfactory to Macbeth, for
presently he came back, steaming, into the box. For some minutes he
continued to mutter with the thunder, about "poor young things," "cotton
blouses," and "weak chests."

But the altruistic passion in the man had spent itself for the moment,
and now the conversation began to take other forms. Banquo began to
enter into the dialogue. His contributions so far had been mainly
interjectory and blasphemous--a department of which he was obviously a
more versatile exponent than the other, who was by no means a 'prentice
hand. And here I must note a curious thing. Whether it was that the box
afforded no proper theatre for exhibiting the natural dignity of my
carriage, or that the light was not good, or that I am a ruffian at
heart and had been caught at an unguarded moment--whatever the true
cause may have been, I am certain that up to this moment my two
companions had no suspicion that I was not a tramp like themselves.

It was Banquo who unmasked the truth. His mind was less preoccupied with
the sufferings of the "poor young thing," and no doubt had been taking
observations. The result of these he proceeded to communicate to Macbeth
by a series of nudges and winks which, in the close proximity of the
moment, I felt rather than saw. On the whole, I am sorry that their
first delusion--if, indeed, it was a delusion, of which I am genuinely
doubtful--was not maintained. However, the discovery opened the way to
fresh developments. They ceased to address me as "Johnny," "Old Joker,"
or something worse; ceased swearing, for which, lover of originality as
I am, I was thankful; and began generally to pay me the respect due to
the fact that the soles of my boots were intact. Theirs were in a very
different condition.

I can't disguise that there was something like an awkward pause. But I
exerted myself to bridge the chasm, and, thanks to them rather than to
me, it was bridged.

"Where are you going to-night?" I asked as soon as the _modus vivendi_
was assured.

"Ain't going nowhere in particular," said Banquo. "We just go anywhere."

"What!" I said, "don't you know where you'll pass the