at something
unusual. I turned aside to see what it was. About twenty persons, mostly
errand boys, were standing round a sandwich-board man. At the outskirts
of the circle, I raised myself on tip-toe and peered over the heads of
those in front. The sandwich-board man's back was towards me.

"What's the matter?" I asked of my neighbour.

"One of the blue freaks from Birmingham," was the reply.

My first impulse was to fly. Here I was in close proximity to my
handiwork. I turned and made off a few paces. But curiosity overmastered
me, and I came back. The man was now facing me, and I could see him
distinctly through a gap in the crowd. It was a thin, unshaven face with
straightened features and gaunt cheeks. The eyes were deeply sunken and
at that moment turned downwards. His complexion was pale, but I could
see a faint bluish tinge suffusing the skin, that gave it a strange,
dead look. And then the man lifted his eyes and gazed straight at me. I
caught my breath, for under the black eye brows, the whites of the eyes
were stained a pure sparrow-egg blue.

"I came from Birmingham yesterday," I heard him saying. "There ain't
nothing the matter with me."

"You ought to go to a fever hospital," said someone.

"We don't want that blue stuff in London," added another.

"Perhaps it's catching," said the first speaker.

In a flash everyone had drawn back. The sandwich-board man stood in the
centre of the road alone looking sharply round him. Suddenly a wave of
rage seemed to possess him. He shook his fist in the air, and even as he
shook it, his eyes caught the blue sheen of the tense skin over the
knuckles. He stopped, staring stupidly, and the rage passed from his
face, leaving it blank and incredulous.

"Lor' lumme," he muttered. "If that ain't queer."

He held out his hand, palm downwards. And from the pavement I saw that
the man's nails were as blue as pieces of turquoise.

The sun came out from behind a passing cloud and sent a sudden flame of
radiance over the scene in the side street--the sandwich-board man, his
face still blank and incredulous, staring stupidly at his hands; the
crowd standing well back in a wide semi-circle; I further forward,
peering through my spectacles and clutching my umbrella convulsively.
Then a tall man, in morning coat and top-hat, pushed his way through and
touched the man from Birmingham on the shoulder.

"Can you come to my house?" he asked in an undertone. "I am a doctor and
w