pass a cheery remark!" And he continued irritably:

"How can you expect a chap to look well if he has something inside him
stronger than himself forcing him to do the silliest things? It _must_
wear him out. I never know when it will take me next. I'm here in London
looking for a job today, but even if I find one, I'm sure to do some
tom-fool thing that will get me the sack."

He passed his hand across his face. "I'd rather not think about it."

I took pity on him, he looked so harassed, and I asked him to come on to
a Lyons restaurant with me and have a bit of lunch. As we walked through
the streets, we fell in with a great crowd, and then I remembered that
some royal visitors were to proceed in great state to the Mansion House.
I proposed to Barber that we should go and look at the procession, and
he agreed more readily than I expected.

In fact, after a while, the crowd, and the rumor, and stirring of troops
as they fell into position, evidently wrought on him to a remarkable
degree. He began to talk loud and rather haughtily, to study his
gestures; there was infinite superiority and disdain in the looks he
cast on the people. He attracted the attention and, I thought, the
derision of those close to us, and I became rather ashamed and impatient
of those ridiculous airs. Yet I could not help feeling sorry for him.
The poor creature evidently suffered from megalomania--that was the only
way to account for his pretentious notions of his own importance, seeing
that he was just a needy little clerk out of work.--

The place from which we were watching the procession was a corner of
Piccadilly Circus. The street lay before our eyes bleached in the sun,
wide and empty, looking about three times as large as usual, bordered
with a line of soldiers and mounted police, and the black crowd massed
behind. In a few minutes the procession of princes would sweep by. There
was a hush over all the people.

What followed happened so quickly that I can hardly separate the
progressive steps. Barber continued to talk excitedly, but all my
attention being on the scene before me, I took no heed of what he said.
Neither could I hear him very plainly. But it must have been the ceasing
of his voice which made me look around, when I saw he was no longer by
my side.

How he managed, at that moment, to get out there I never knew, but
suddenly in the broad vacant space, fringed by police and soldiery, I
saw Barber walking alone in the sight