Powell wandered up and down there like an early Christian refugee in the catacombs; but what little faith he had in the success of his enterprise was oozing out at his finger-tips.

At a dark turn under a gas bracket whose flame was half turned down his self- confidence abandoned him altogether.
"I stood there to think a little," he said.

"A foolish thing to do because of course I got scared.

What could you expect?
It takes some nerve to tackle a stranger with a request for a favour.

I wished my namesake Powell had been the devil himself.