vernor's wife. He
was a short, stiff-looking old man, though not over fifty-five, with a
rather red little face, with thick grey locks of hair clustering under
his chimney-pot hat, and curling round his clean little pink ears.
His clean little face was not altogether handsome with its thin, long,
crafty-looking lips, with its rather fleshy nose, and its sharp, shrewd
little eyes. He was dressed somewhat shabbily in a sort of cape such as
would be worn in Switzerland or North Italy at that time of year. But,
at any rate, all the minor details of his costume, the little studs,
and collar, the buttons, the tortoise-shell lorgnette on a narrow black
ribbon, the signet-ring, were all such as are worn by persons of the
most irreproachable good form. I am certain that in summer he must have
worn light prunella shoes with mother-of-pearl buttons at the side.
When we met he was standing still at the turning and looking about him,
attentively. Noticing that I was looking at him with interest, he asked
me in a sugary, though rather shrill voice:

"Allow me to ask, which is my nearest way to Bykovy Street?"

"To Bykovy Street? Oh, that's here, close by," I cried in great
excitement. "Straight on along this street and the second turning to the
left."

"Very much obliged to you."

A curse on that minute! I fancy I was shy, and looked cringing. He
instantly noticed all that, and of course realised it all at once; that
is, realised that I knew who he was, that I had read him and revered
him from a child, and that I was shy and looked at him cringingly. He
smiled, nodded again, and walked on as I had directed him. I don't know
why I turned back to follow him; I don't know why I ran for ten paces
beside him. He suddenly stood still again.

"And could you tell me where is the nearest cab-stand?" he shouted out
to me again.

It was a horrid shout! A horrid voice!

"A cab-stand? The nearest cab-stand is... by the Cathedral; there are
always cabs standing there," and I almost turned to run for a cab for
him. I almost believe that that was what he expected me to do. Of
course I checked myself at once, and stood still, but he had noticed
my movement and was still watching me with the same horrid smile. Then
something happened which I shall never forget.

He suddenly dropped a tiny bag, which he was holding in his left
hand; though indeed it was not a bag, but rather a little box, or more
probably some part of a pocket-book, or to be