rs, who would not leave him alone.

In the yellow night policemen drew back scared, as he hurried past them
on his way to nowhere.

In the day-time Oxford Street was his favourite thoroughfare. He was
very irritable at this time, and could not leave his fellow wayfarers
alone.

More than once he poked his walking-stick through the eyeglass of a
brave young gentleman.

He would turn swiftly round to catch people looking at him.

When a small boy came in his way, he took him by the neck and planted
him on the curb-stone.

If a man approached simpering, Andrew stopped and gazed at him. The
smile went from the stranger's face; he blushed or looked fierce. When
he turned round, Andrew still had his eye on him. Sometimes he came
bouncing back.

"What are you so confoundedly happy about?" Andrew asked.

When he found a crowd gazing in at a "while you wait" shop-window, or
entranced over the paving of a street--

"Splendid, isn't it?" he said to the person nearest him.

He dropped a penny, which he could ill spare, into the hat of an
exquisite who annoyed him by his way of lifting it to a lady.

When he saw a man crossing the street too daintily, he ran after him
and hit him over the legs.

Even on his worst days his reasoning powers never left him. Once a
mother let her child slip from her arms to the pavement.

She gave a shriek.

"My good woman," said Andrew, testily, "what difference can one infant
in the world more or less make?"

We come now to an eccentricity, engendered of loneliness, that altered
the whole course of his life. Want had battered down his door. Truth
had been evolved from despair. He was at last to have a flash into
salvation.

To give an object to his walks abroad he would fasten upon a wayfarer
and follow him till he ran him to his destination. Chance led to his
selecting one quarry rather than another. He would dog a man's
footsteps, struck by the glossiness of his boots, or to discover what
he was in such a hurry about, or merely because he had a good back to
follow. Probably he seldom knew what attracted him, and sometimes when
he realised the pursuit he gave it up.

On these occasions there was one person only who really interested him.
This was a man, somewhat over middle age, of singularly noble and
distinguished bearing. His brow was furrowed with lines, but they
spoke of cares of the past. Benevolence had settled on his face. It
was as if, after a weary strug