The only other occupant of the carriage was a well dressed man of
middle age, clad in English clothes, but from many slight signs
palpably a foreigner of some sort.
Soon after the train started I noticed that his mouth and throat were
twitching and I surmised that he was about to speak. But speech is
no term in which to describe the queer animal, vegetable and mineral
sounds which issued from him. First his mouth opened slightly and he
seemed about to sneeze. Next I was conscious of a scraping noise in
his throat, accompanied by a slight ticking. It appeared that he was
going to have a fit and I regretted that we were alone. The noise grew
louder, took on speed and rose in a crescendo almost to a screech.
Then a few more scrapes, as of a pencil on a slate, and I began to
detect that he was speaking. His lips did not move, so that his voice
had a curiously distant sound. Nevertheless the words were clearly
audible.
The following is what he said in a low, metallic monotone: "Good
morning, Sir. I am very pleased to meet you. Can you tell me what
o'clock it is? I am much obliged. I wish to descend at Manchester.
At what hour do we arrive there? There are few passengers to-day. The
weather is fine. I beg your pardon if I do not make myself clear. I
do not speak English perfectly as yet. No doubt I have need of much
practice. Can I send a telegram from the next station? Is there a good
hotel at Manchester? Will you do me the favour----"
"Stop," I cried, after having several times opened my mouth to answer
one or other of his questions.
As soon as I spoke the words ended with a sudden click; the voice
descended and became a scrape; at last silence.
"My dear Sir," said I, "I shall be happy to give you any information
I can if you will ask one question at a time. You evidently speak
English very well indeed."
His face lighted with approval of the compliment and then the whole
performance began over again. Once more the wheeze, the scrape, the
screech, the tick and all the rest of it. I became terrified at these
painful impediments in his speech.
I remembered that somebody had once told me what to do on such
occasions. It was either to throw the patient upon his back and move
his arms up and down in a travesty of rowing or to slap him violently
on the back. Seeing that the stranger was several times larger than
myself I chose with diffidence the latter course. Rising to my feet
I turned him round and thumped his back vigorously. He received the
treatment with amiable smiles. Next he produced from his pocket a
booklet, which he handed to me with a polite bow, desisting entirely
from his menagerie noises.
I am of a nervous temperament and needed some minutes' rest in which
to collect myself. Then I began to examine the stranger's gift.