position and the same education, might reasonably be expected
to express annoyance or amusement in the same manner, possibly
in the same tone of voice; and Chilcote remembered this almost
at the moment of his nervous jar.

"Beastly fog!" he said, aloud. "I'm trying to find Grosvenor
Square, but the chances seem rather small."

The other laughed again, and again the laugh upset Chilcote.
He wondered uncomfortably if he was becoming a prey to
illusions. But the stranger spoke before the question had
solved itself.

"I'm afraid they are small," he said. "It would be almost
hard to find one's way to the devil on a night like this."

Chilcote made a murmur of amusement and drew back against the
shop.

"Yes. We can see now where the blind man scores in the matter
of salvation. This is almost a repetition of the fog of six
years ago. Were you out in that?"

It was a habit of his to jump from one sentence to another, a
habit that had grown of late.

"No." The stranger had also groped his way to the shopfront.
"No, I was out of England six years ago."

"You were lucky." Chilcote turned up the collar of his coat.