(_Fragment from a Seasonable Romance._)
It was towards the close of the London season of 1893 that a man in a
strange garb was seen at an early hour in the East End of London. He
attracted considerable attention. It was a rough part of the City,
still, those who lived there were conventional in their costume. They
wore black coats, and there was a certain respectability about their
hats. But the man to whom we refer was eccentric in the extreme. His
straw hat was worn at the back of his head, his cut-away coat was
thrown open, showing a huge, collarless coloured cotton shirt. He had
flannel trousers tucked into digger's boots. No one knew whence he
came, whither he was going.
"Have you noticed him?" asked the Inspector.
"Yes, Sir," replied the Police Constable, "he's got white hands, so if
he belongs to the dangerous classes, he is a smasher, or a forger, or
something genteel in that line."
"Well, keep your eye upon him."
"I will, Sir."
And the strange-looking person continued his way. As he walked through
the City, the merchants regarded him with surprise, but there
were those amongst the stockbrokers who seemed to receive him with
recognition.
"I fancy I have seen the Johnnie somewhere before," observed one
Member of the House to another. "I am almost sure I know the cut of
his suit."
And the man walked on until he reached Knightsbridge. There he was
stopped by an elderly, well-dressed, well-to-do individual, who had
evidently just come up from the country. The two pedestrians started
back when they met face to face.
"What are you doing in that hideous disguise?" asked the senior of the
junior.
"It is no disguise, father," was the reply; "it is only the customary
get up of a young man of fashion between the hours of nine and eleven
when he proposes to walk in the park."
And, with these words, the strange apparition crossed over the road,
and entered Rotten Row. And here he was soon lost in a crowd quite as
eccentrically garbed as himself.
* * * * *