There was something about the man I found exceedingly attractive; I had
very few friends; and there was besides something odd, almost romantic,
in this beginning of an intercourse: I would see what would come of it.

'Then we'll have some supper first,' said Mr. Falconer, and rang the
bell.

While we ate our chops--

'I dare say you think it strange,' my host said, 'that without the least
claim on your acquaintance, I should have asked you to come and see me,
Mr.--'

He stopped, smiling.

'My name is Gordon--Archie Gordon,' I said.

'Well, then, Mr. Gordon, I confess I have a design upon you. But you
will remember that you addressed me first.'

'You spoke first,' I said.

'Did I?'

'I did not say you spoke to me, but you spoke.--I should not have
ventured to make the remark I did make, if I had not heard your voice
first. What design have you on me?'

'That will appear in due course. Now take a glass of wine, and we'll set
out.'

We soon found ourselves in Holborn, and my companion led the way towards
the City. The evening was sultry and close.

'Nothing excites me move,' said Mr. Falconer, 'than a walk in the
twilight through a crowded street. Do you find it affect you so?'

'I cannot speak as strongly as you do,' I replied. 'But I perfectly
understand what you mean. Why is it, do you think?'

'Partly, I fancy, because it is like the primordial chaos, a
concentrated tumult of undetermined possibilities. The germs of infinite
adventure and result are floating around you like a snow-storm. You do
not know what may arise in a moment and colour all your future. Out
of this mass may suddenly start something marvellous, or, it may be,
something you have been looking for for years.'

The same moment, a fierce flash of lightning, like a blue sword-blade
a thousand times shattered, quivered and palpitated about us, leaving a
thick darkness on the sense. I heard my companion give a suppressed cry,
and saw him run up against a heavy drayman who was on the edge of the
path, guiding his horses with his long whip. He begged the man's pardon,
put his hand to his head, and murmured, 'I shall know him now.' I was
afraid for a moment that the lightning had struck him, but he assured
me there was nothing amiss. He looked a little excited and confused,
however.

I should have forgotten the incident, had he not told me
afterwards--when I had come to know him intimately--that in the moment
of that lightning flash, he