hand. He looked up, and there beside him stood the oddest-looking
figure he had ever seen.

The stranger was clad from head to foot in a suit of silver gray. Upon
his head he wore a peaked cap, upon his feet were the longest and most
pointed of buskins; his doublet and hose were silver gray, and over his
shoulders hung a mantle about which was a jagged border made after the
most fantastic design, which shone and glittered like ice in sunlight.
About his hips was a narrow girdle from which hung a sheathed dagger
whose hilt was richly studded with clear, white crystals that looked to
Lionel like the purest of diamonds.

Lionel felt that when he spoke it would probably be after some
old-century fashion which he could scarcely understand; but there he
was mistaken, for when the stranger addressed him, it was in the most
modern manner and with great kindliness.

"Well, my son," he said cheerily, "tired out? I saw you run. You have
a fine pair of heels. They have good speed in them."

"I wanted to catch up with someone,--an old beggar-man who lost
something in our area-way. I wanted to return it to him," explained
Lionel, breathlessly.

The stranger gazed down at him more kindly than ever. "So? But one
can't expect to catch up with folks when one gets _winded_ and has to
stop every now and then for breath. Better try my mode."

"Please, sir, what is your mode?" inquired Lionel, with his politest
manner.