lo, Fenwick!--just the man I wanted to see!'

Fenwick, whose eyes--often very troublesome of late--were smarting
with the fog, peered at the speaker, and recognised Philip Cuningham.
His face darkened a little as they shook hands.

'What did you want me for?'

'Did you know that poor old Watson had come back to town--ill?'

'No!' cried Fenwick, arrested. 'I thought he was in Algiers.'

Cuningham walked on beside him, telling what he knew, Fenwick all
the time dumbly vexed that this good-looking, prosperous fellow, this
Academician in his new fur coat, breathing success and commissions,
should know more of his best friend's doings than he.

Watson, it appeared, had been seized with hemorrhage at Marseilles,
and had thereupon given up his winter plans, and crawled home to
London, as soon as he was sufficiently recovered to bear the journey.
Fenwick, much troubled, protested that it was madness to have come
back to the English winter.

'No,' said Cuningham, looking grave. 'Better die at home than among
strangers. And I'm afraid it's come to that, dear old fellow!'

Then he described--with evident self-satisfaction--how he had heard,
from a common friend, of Watson's arrival, how he had rescued the
invalid from a dingy Bloomsbury hotel, and settled him in some rooms
in Fitzroy Square, with a landlady who could be trusted.

'We must have a nurse before long--but he won't have one yet. He wants
badly to see you. I told him I'd look you up this evening. But this'll
do instead, won't it? You'll remember?--23, Fitzroy Square. Shall
I tell him when he may expect you? Every day we try to get him some
little pleasure or other.'

Fenwick's irritation grew. Cuningham was talking as though the old
relation between him and Richard Watson were still intact; while
Fenwick knew well how thin and superficial the bond had grown.

'I shall go to-day,' he said, rather shortly. 'I have two or three
things to do this morning, but there'll be time before my rehearsal
this afternoon.'

'Your rehearsal?' Cuningham looked amiably curious.

Fenwick explained, but with fresh annoyance. The papers had been full
enough of this venture on which he was engaged; Cuningham's ignorance
offended him.

'Ah, indeed--very interesting,' said Cuningham, vaguely. 'Well,
good-bye. I must jump into a hansom.'

'Where are you off to?'

'The Goldsmiths' Company are building a new Hall, and they want my
advice about its decoration. Precious difficul