Now, I detest being in the mob, and I was about to back my way out
of the crowd and seek another route, even if a roundabout one. But
just then the blockade was partially raised, an opening presented
itself immediately in front of me, and I was forced forward willy-
nilly. Arrived at the other side of the street, I drew out of the
press as quickly as possible, and it was then that I discovered Mr.
Indiman's carte de visite tightly clutched in my left hand.
Impossible to conjecture how it had come there, and my own part in
the transaction had been purely involuntary; the muscles of the
palm had closed unconsciously upon the object presented to it, just
as does a baby's. "Mr. Esper Indiman--and who the deuce may he be?"

The club dining-room was full, but Jeckley hailed me and offered me
a seat at his table. I loathe Jeckley, and so I explained politely
that I was waiting for a friend, and should not dine until later.

"Well, then, have a cocktail while I am finishing my coffee,"
persisted the beast, and I was obliged to comply.

"I had to feed rather earlier than usual," explained Jeckley.

"Yes," I said, not caring in the least about Mr. Jeckley's hours
for meals.

"You see I'm doing the opening at the Globe to-night, and I must
get my Wall Street copy to the office before the theatre. And what
do you think of that by way of an extra assignment?" He took a card
from his pocket-book and tossed it over. It was another one of Mr.
Esper Indiman's calling-cards, and scrawled in pencil, "Call at