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).
|

Knightsbridge 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. |