He is also a friend of Eleanor Faversham, whom he now and then inveigles into weird doings in the impossible slums of South Lambeth.

He has tried on many occasions to lure me into his web, but hitherto I have resisted.
Being the possessor of a large fortune, he has been able to gratify a devouring passion for philanthropy, and has squandered most of his money on an institution--a kind of club, school, labour-bureau, dispensary, soup-kitchen, all rolled into one--in Lambeth; and there he lives himself, perfectly happy among a hungry, grubby, scarecrow, tatterdemalion crowd.

At a loss for a defining name, he has called it "Barbara's Building," after his mother.

His conception of the cosmos is that sun, moon and stars revolve round Barbara's Building.

How he learned that I was, so to speak, standing at street corners and flinging money into the laps of the poor and needy, I know not.