"Dear me, Villiers, it is very kind of you to look me
up; I have not seen you for many months; I should think nearly a
year. Come in, come in. And how are you, Villiers? Want any
advice about investments?"

"No, thanks, I fancy everything I have in that way is
pretty safe. No, Clarke, I have really come to consult you
about a rather curious matter that has been brought under my
notice of late. I am afraid you will think it all rather absurd
when I tell my tale. I sometimes think so myself, and that's
just what I made up my mind to come to you, as I know you're a
practical man."

Mr. Villiers was ignorant of the "Memoirs to prove the
Existence of the Devil."

"Well, Villiers, I shall be happy to give you my
advice, to the best of my ability. What is the nature of the
case?"

"It's an extraordinary thing altogether. You know my
ways; I always keep my eyes open in the streets, and in my time
I have chanced upon some queer customers, and queer cases too,
but this, I think, beats all. I was coming out of a restaurant
one nasty winter night about three months ago; I had had a
capital dinner and a good bottle of Chianti, and I stood for a
moment on the pavement, thinking what a mystery there is about
London streets and the companies that pass along them. A bottle
of red wine encourages these fancies, Clarke, and I dare say I