I went to a general outfitter in Cornhill and told a cock-and-bull story--as it was an affair of ready cash they didn't stop to question me about it.

I said something about a sea-faring brother, just my height, a trifle stouter in build--lost all his kit at sea--been in hospital--now in convalescent home--how I wanted to save him all the fatigue possible--wouldn't want more than reach-me-downs at present, etc., etc.

They rather flummoxed me at first by offering a merchant service uniform, but somehow I got over that, though this serge suit has rather a sea-faring cut.

I got so unnecessarily explanatory with the shopman that he began to pay me compliments, said my brother must be a good-looking young chap if he was at all like me.

However, I got away with the things in a cab, and told the cab to drive to St.Paul's station, and on the way re-directed him here.
"Last autumn I began practising at night-time after all our familiars had left these premises.