Decidedly the heat had upset my nerves that night, nor were they soothed when suddenly from the red head floating upon the water came a flute-like and educated voice, saying-- "Cease deriding the unfortunate, children, or I will come out of this marble bath and tickle you." Thereat they laughed all the more, and began to pelt the bather with little stones and bits of stick.
At first I thought of interfering, but as it occurred to me that the man would probably be violent or abusive if I spoke to him, and as, above all things, I disliked scenes, I made up my mind to fetch a policeman, whom I knew I should find round the corner about a hundred yards away.

I walked to the corner, but did not find the policeman, whereon I started across the square to look for him at another point.

My road led me past the fountain, and, as I approached it, I saw that the water-loving wanderer had been as good as his word.

He had emerged from the fountain, and, rushing to and fro raining moisture from his wide coat, despite their shrieks half of fear and half of laughter, he grabbed child after child and, drawing it to him, tickled and kissed it, laughing dementedly all the while, in a fashion which showed me that he was suffering from some form of mania.
As soon as he saw me the man dropped the last child he had caught--it was little Tottie Smith--and began to stride away towards the city at the same slow, regular, purposeful gait with which I had seen him approach the fountain.

As he passed he turned and made a grimace at me, and then I saw his dreadful face.