the mystery of four million private lives. He glanced at the
houses, and marvelled what was passing behind those warmly-lighted
windows; he looked into face after face, and saw them each intent
upon some unknown interest, criminal or kindly.

"They talk of war," he thought, "but this is the great battlefield
of mankind."

And then he began to wonder that he should walk so long in this
complicated scene, and not chance upon so much as the shadow of an
adventure for himself.

"All in good time," he reflected. "I am still a stranger, and
perhaps wear a strange air. But I must be drawn into the eddy
before long."

The night was already well advanced when a plump of cold rain fell
suddenly out of the darkness. Brackenbury paused under some trees,
and as he did so he caught sight of a hansom cabman making him a
sign that he was disengaged. The circumstance fell in so happily
to the occasion that he at once raised his cane in answer, and had
soon ensconced himself in the London gondola.

"Where to, sir?" asked the driver.

"Where you please," said Brackenbury.

And immediately, at a pace of surprising swiftness, the hansom
drove off through the rain into a maze of villas. One villa was so
like another, each with its front garden, and there was so little