passersby; then, suddenly mastered by an impulse, he wheeled
rapidly and darted after the tall, lean figure so ridiculously
like his own.

Half-way across Trafalgar Square he overtook the stranger. He
had paused on one of the small stone islands that break the
current of traffic, and was waiting for an opportunity to
cross the street. In the glare of light from the lamp above
his head, Chilcote saw for the first time that, under a
remarkable neatness of appearance, his clothes were well
worn--almost shabby. The discovery struck him with something
stronger than surprise. The idea of poverty seemed incongruous
is connection with the reliance, the reserve, the personality
of the man. With a certain embarrassed haste he stepped
forward and touched his arm.

"Look here," he said, as the other turned quietly. "I have
followed you to exchange cards. It can't injure either of us,
and I--I have a wish to know my other self." He laughed
nervously as he drew out his card-case.

The stranger watched him in silence. There was the same faint
contempt, but also there was a reluctant interest in his
glance, as it passed from the fingers fumbling with the case
to the pale face with the square jaw, straight mouth, and
level eyebrows drawn low over the gray eyes. When at last the
card was held out to him he took it without remark and slipped
it into his pocket.

Chilcote looked at him eagerly. "Now the exchange?" he said.