I am Thomas Dudgeon, at your service, clerk to Mr.Daniel Romaine, solicitor of London; High Holborn is our address, sir.' It was only by the ecstasy of the relief that I knew how horribly I had been frightened.

I flung my stick on the road.
'Romaine ?' I cried.

'Daniel Romaine?
An old hunks with a red face and a big head, and got up like a Quaker?
My dear friend, to my arms!' 'Keep back, I say!' said Dudgeon weakly.
I would not listen to him.

With the end of my own alarm, I felt as if I must infallibly be at the end of all dangers likewise; as if the pistol that he held in one hand were no more to be feared than the valise that he carried with the other, and now put up like a barrier against my advance.
'Keep back, or I declare I will fire,' he was crying.

'Have a care, for God's sake! My pistol--' He might scream as be pleased.