NORMAN GORTSBY sat on a bench in the Hyde Park Corner, with its and hoot of traffic, lay immediately to his right. It was some thirty minutes past six on an early March evening, and dusk had fallen heavily over the scene, yet there were many figures moving silently through the half-light.
On the bench by his side sat an elderly gentleman. His clothes could be called shabby, at least they passed in the half-light. He belonged unmistakably to that orchestra to whose piping no one dances. He rose to go and his figure vanished slowly into the shadows, and his place on the bench was taken almost immediately by a young man, fairly well dressed but scarcely more cheerful of than his predecessor. As if to emphasise the fact that the world went badly with him the new-comer unburdened himself of an angry and very audible as he flung himself into the seat.
"You don't seem in a very good ," said Gortsby, judging that he was expected to take due notice of the demonstration.
The young man turned to him with a look of frankness which put him instantly on his guard.
"You wouldn't be in a good temper if you were in the fix I'm in," he said; "I've done the silliest thing I've ever done in my life."
"Yes?" said Gortsby .
"Came up this afternoon, meaning to stay at the Patagonian Hotel in Berkshire Square," continued the young man; "when I got there I found it had been some weeks ago. The taxi driver recommended me to another hotel some way off and I went there. I just sent a letter to my people, giving them the address, and then I went out to buy some soap - I'd forgotten to pack any and I hate using hotel soap. Then I about a bit, had a drink at a bar and looked at the shops, and when I came to turn my steps back to the hotel I suddenly realised that I didn't remember its name or even what street it was in. There's a nice for a fellow who hasn't any friends or connections in London! Of course I can wire to my people for the address, but they won't have got my letter till to-morrow; meantime I'm without any money, came out with about a shilling on me, which went in buying the soap and getting the drink, and here I am, about with twopence in my pocket and nowhere to go for the night."
There was an pause after the story had been told. "I suppose you think I've spun you rather an impossible ," said the young man presently, with a suggestion of in his voice.
"Not at all impossible," said Gortsby ; "I remember doing exactly the same thing once in a foreign capital, and on that occasion there were two of us, which made it more remarkable. Luckily we remembered that the hotel was on a sort of canal, and when we struck the canal we were able to find our way back to the hotel. Of course, the weak point of your story is that you can't produce the soap."
The young man sat forward hurriedly, felt rapidly in the pockets of his overcoat, and then jumped to his feet.
"I must have lost it," he angrily.
"To lose a hotel and a cake of soap on one afternoon suggests carelessness," said Gortsby, but the young man scarcely waited to hear the end of the remark, away down the path.
"It was a pity," Gortsby; "the going out to get one's own soap was the one convincing touch in the whole story, and yet it was just that little detail that brought him to grief. If he had had the brilliant to provide himself with a cake of soap he would have been a in his particular line."
With that reflection Gortsby rose to go; as he did so an exclamation of escaped him. Lying on the ground by the side of the bench was a small oval packet. It could be nothing else but a cake of soap, and it had evidently fallen out of the youth's overcoat pocket when he himself down on the seat. In another moment Gortsby was along the dusk in anxious quest for a youthful figure in a light overcoat. He had nearly given up the search when he caught sight of the object of his standing on the border of the carriage drive. He turned round sharply with an air of defensive hostility when he found Gortsby him.
"The important witness to the of your story has turned up," said Gortsby, holding out the cake of soap; "it must have slid out of your overcoat pocket when you sat down on the seat. I saw it on the ground after you left. You must excuse my disbelief, but appearances were really rather against you. If the loan of a is any good to you - "
The young man removed all doubt on the subject by pocketing the coin.
"Here is my card with my address," continued Gortsby; "any day this week will do for returning the money, and here is the soap - don't lose it again it's been a good friend to you."
"Lucky thing your finding it," said the youth, and then, with a catch in his voice, he out a word or two of thanks and fled in the direction of Knightsbridge.
"Poor boy, he as nearly as possible broke down," said Gortsby to himself. "It's a lesson to me not to be too clever in judging by ."
As Gortsby his steps past the seat where the little drama had taken place he saw an elderly gentleman and peering beneath it and on all sides of it, and recognised his earlier fellow occupant.
"Have you lost anything, sir?" he asked.
"Yes, sir, ." (FOUR WORDS to finish the story)

Hyde Park Corner
is a place in London, at the south-east corner of Hyde Park. It is a major intersection where Park Lane, Knightsbridge, Piccadilly, Grosvenor Place and Constitution Hill converge. The closest tube station is Hyde Park Corner.
In the centre of the roundabout stands Constitution Arch (or Wellington Arch), designed by Decimus Burton as a memorial to the Duke of Wellington and originally providing a grand entrance to London. It was built as a northern gate to the grounds of Buckingham Palace. Originally the arch was topped with an equestrian statue of the Duke by Matthew Cotes Wyatt, but it was replaced with the current work, The Angel of Peace descending on the Quadriga of Victory (1912) by Adrian Jones. Other monuments at Hyde Park Corner include Jones's Monument to the Cavalry of the Empire (off the west side of Park Lane), Alexander Munro's Boy and Dolphin statue (in a rose garden parallel to Rotten Row, going west from Hyde Park Corner), the Wellington Monument (off the west side of Park Lane) and a statue of Byron (on a traffic island opposite the Wellington Monument).

is a road which gives its name to an exclusive district lying to the west of Central London. The road runs along the south side of Hyde Park, west from Hyde Park Corner, spanning the City of Westminster and the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea. Up to Brompton Road, it is a part of the A4 arterial road, while the remainder is part of the A315.
The eponymous district comprises the areas immediately surrounding Knightsbridge (the road) on the north, Sloane Street to its junction with Pont Street, and Brompton Road to its junction with Beauchamp Place. The district is notable as an ultra-expensive residential area, and for the density of its upmarket retail outlets, famously Harrods and Harvey Nichols.