He was particular, too, in fitting my arm in my overcoat sleeve, shaking the sleeve down from the armhole to the cuff with his deft fingers.

"Come again soon!" he said, clapping me on the back.
"At any and all times," I said enthusiastically; "I only ask ten minutes twice a day to eat a crust at my office, and four hours' sleep at night, and the rest of my time is devoted to you always, as you know." "It is indeed," he said, with his impenetrable smile.
Nevertheless, I did not find him at home when I next called.

One afternoon, when nearing my own home, I met him in one of his favorite disguises,--a long blue swallow-tailed coat, striped cotton trousers, large turn-over collar, blacked face, and white hat, carrying a tambourine.

Of course to others the disguise was perfect, although it was known to myself, and I passed him--according to an old understanding between us--without the slightest recognition, trusting to a later explanation.

At another time, as I was making a professional visit to the wife of a publican at the East End, I saw him, in the disguise of a broken-down artisan, looking into the window of an adjacent pawnshop.