CHAPTER XXXI.
SAM STAY TURNS UP "I have seen you somewhere before, ain't I ?" The stout clergyman in the immaculate white collar beamed benevolently at the questioner and shook his head with a gentle smile.
"No, my dear friend, I do not think I have ever seen you before." It was a little man, shabbily dressed, and looking ill.

His face was drawn and lined; he had not shaved for days, and the thin, black stubble of hair gave him a sinister look.

The clergyman had just walked out of Temple Gardens and was at the end of Villiers Street leading up to the Strand, when he was accosted.

He was a happy-looking clergyman, and something of a student, too, if the stout and serious volume under his arm had any significance.
"I've seen you before," said the little man, "I've dreamt about you." "If you'll excuse me," said the clergyman, "I am afraid I cannot stay.
I have an important engagement." "Hold hard," said the little man, in so fierce a tone that the other stopped.

"I tell you I've dreamt about you.