A few minutes later I departed, the
accepted tenant (under the pseudonym of Simon Vosper) of Samuel Nathan,
with the understanding that I should deliver my advance rent in
bank-notes and that he should have the top-dressing of dirt removed from
the house and the name of Vosper painted over the shop.

"My preparations for the new activities on which I was to enter were
quickly made. In my Bloomsbury house I installed as caretaker a retired
sergeant-major of incomparable taciturnity. I locked up the museum wing
and kept the keys. I took a few lessons in haircutting from a West-End
barber. I paid my advance rent, sent in a set of bedroom furniture to my
new premises in Saul Street, Whitechapel, abandoned the habit of shaving
for some ten days, and then took possession of the shop.

"At first the customers were few and far between. A stray coster or
carman came in from time to time, but mostly the shop was silent and
desolate. But this did not distress me. I had various preparations to
make and a plan of campaign to settle. There were the cellar stairs,
for instance; a steep flight of stone steps, unguarded by baluster or
handrail. They were very dangerous. But when I had fitted a sort of
giant stride by suspending a stout rope from the ceiling, I was able to
swing myself down the whole flight in perfect safety. Other preparations
consisted in the placing, of an iron safe in the parlor (with a small
mirror above it) and the purchase of a tin of stiff cart-grease and a
few large barrels. These latter I bought from a cooper in the form of
staves and hoops, and built them up in the cellar in my rather extensive
spare time.

"Meanwhile trade gradually increased. The harmless coster and laborer
began to be varied by customers rather more in my line; in fact, I had
not quite completed my arrangements when I got the first windfall.

"It was a Wednesday evening. I had nearly finished shaving a large,
military-looking laborer when the door opened very quietly and a seedy,
middle-aged man entered and sat down. His movements were silent--almost
stealthy; and, when he had seated himself, he picked up a newspaper
from behind which I saw him steal furtive and suspicious glances at the
patient in the operating chair. The latter, being scraped clean, rose to
depart, and the newcomer underwent a total eclipse behind the newspaper.

"'Oo's 'e?' he demanded, when the laborer was safely outside.

"'I don't know him,' I replied, 'but I sho