EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF
XXVI NIP AND TUCK
XXVII CLOSE QUARTERS
XXVIII SOUVENIRS

Every Man For Himself

CHAPTER I

FOG

Except for the lone policeman who paused beneath the arc light at the
Front Street intersection to make an entry in his patrol book, Bay
Street was deserted. The fog which had come crawling in from the lake
had filled the lower streets and was feeling its way steadily through
the sleeping city, blurring the street lights. Its clammy touch
darkened the stone facades of tall, silent buildings and left tiny wet
beads on iron railing and grill work. Down towards the waterfront a
yard-engine coughed and clanked about in the mist somewhere, noisily
kicking together a string of box-cars, while at regular intervals the
fog-horn over at the Eastern Gap bellowed mournfully into the night.

After tucking away his book and rebuttoning his tunic the policeman
lingered on the corner for a moment in the manner of one who has
nothing to do and no place to go. He was preparing to saunter on when
footfalls began to echo in the emptiness of the street and presently
the figure of a young man grew out of the gray vapor--a young man who
was swinging down towards the docks with the easy stride of an athlete.
As he came within the restricted range of the arc light it was to be
seen that his panama hat was tilted to the back of his head and that he
was holding a silk handkerchief to one eye as if a cinder had blown
into it.

"Good-night, Officer," he nodded as he passed without halting his
stride. "Some fog, eh?"

"'Mornin', sir," returned the dim sentinel of the Law with a respectful
salute as he grinned recognition. "Faith, an' 't is, sir."

High up in the City Hall tower at the head of the street Big Ben boomed
two ponderous notes which flung eerily across the city.

Already the young man had faded into the thickening fog. He was in no
mood to talk to inquisitive policemen, no matter how friendly or
lonesome. It was his own business entirely if concealed beneath the
silk handkerchief was the most elaborate black eye which had come into
his possession since Varsity won the rugby championship some months
before. If his face ached and his knuckles smarted where the skin had
been knocked off, that was his own business also. And when the
judgment of calmer moments has convinced a respectable young gentleman
of spirit that there is nobody but himself to blame for what has
happened he is incl