acquaintance was a clerk in that same insurance-office.
I had not seen the fellow for a great length of time, and I never had
been very intimate with him. But here was a pretext; and so I went in
and inquired for Clement Stanley. My acquaintance came forward. He was
very busy, he said. I invented, on the spur of the moment, some excuse
of the most frivolous and absurd nature, as far as I can recollect, for
my intrusion.

"By the way," I said, as I turned to take my leave, although my question
was "by the way" of nothing at all, "who was that tall, fair man who
just now entered the office?"

"Oh, that fellow?" was the indifferent reply; "a Captain Campbell, or
Canton, or some such name; I forget what. He is gone in before the
board--insured his wife's life--and she is dead; comes for a settlement,
I suppose."

There was nothing more to be gained, and so I left the office. As soon
as I came without into the scorching sunlight, again the same feeling of
cold, again the same voice--"Wait!" Was I going mad? More and more the
conviction forced itself upon me that I was decidedly a monomaniac
already. I felt my pulse. It was agitated and yet not feverish. I was
determined not to give way to this absurd hallucination; and yet, so far
was I out of my senses, that my will was no longer my own. Resolved as I
was to go, I listened to the dictates of that voice and waited. What was
it to me that this Campbell or Canton had insured his wife's life, that
she was dead, and that he wanted a settlement of his claim? Obviously
nothing; and I yet waited.

So strong was the spell on me that I had no longer any count of time. I
had no consciousness whether the period was long or short that I stood
there near the door, heedless of all the throng that passed, gazing on
vacancy. The fiercest of policemen might have told me to "move on," and
I should not have stirred, spite of all the terrors of the "station."
The individual came forth. He paid no heed to me. Why should he? What
was I to him? This time I needed no warning voice to bid me follow. I
was a madman, and I could not resist the impulses of my madness. It was
thus, at least I reasoned with myself. I followed into Regent Street.
The object of my insensate observation lingered, and looked around as if
in expectation. Presently a fine-looking woman, somewhat extravagantly
dressed, and obviously not a lady, advanced toward him on the pavement.
At the sight of her he quickened his step,