(continued)

The sun had set, the sky was a vivid tranquillity of green and yellow, and against that he came out black—the oddest little figure.

He was a short, round-bodied, thin-legged little man, with a jerky quality in his motions;  he had seen fit to clothe his extraordinary mind in a cricket cap, an overcoat, and cycling knickerbockers and stockings.  Why he did so I do not know, for he never cycled and he never played cricket.  It was a fortuitous concurrence of garments, arising I know not how.  He gesticulated with his hands and arms, and jerked his head about and buzzed.  He buzzed like something electric.  You never heard such buzzing.  And ever and again he cleared his throat with a most extraordinary noise.

There had been rain, and that spasmodic walk of his was enhanced by the extreme slipperiness of the footpath.  Exactly as he came against the sun he stopped, pulled out a watch, hesitated.  Then with a sort of convulsive gesture he turned and retreated with every manifestation of haste, no longer gesticulating, but going with ample strides that showed the relatively large size of his feet—they were, I remember, grotesquely exaggerated in size by adhesive clay—to the best possible advantage.

This occurred on the first day of my sojourn, when my play-writing energy was at its height and I regarded the incident simply as an annoying distraction—the waste of five minutes.  I returned to my scenario.  But when next evening the apparition was repeated with remarkable precision, and again the next evening, and indeed every evening when rain was not falling, concentration upon the scenario became a considerable effort.  "Confound the man," I said, "one would think he was learning to be a marionette!"  and for several evenings I cursed him pretty heartily.  Then my annoyance gave way to amazement and curiosity.  Why on earth should a man do this thing?  On the fourteenth evening I could stand it no longer, and so soon as he appeared I opened the french window, crossed the verandah, and directed myself to the point where he invariably stopped.

He had his watch out as I came up to him.  He had a chubby, rubicund face with reddish brown eyes—previously I had seen him only against the light.  "One moment, sir," said I as he turned.  He stared.  "One moment," he said, "certainly.  Or if you wish to speak to me for longer, and it is not asking too much—your moment is up—would it trouble you to accompany me?"

"Not in the least," said I, placing myself beside him.

"My habits are regular.  My time for intercourse—limited."

"This, I presume, is your time for exercise?"

"It is.  I come here to enjoy the sunset."

"You don't."

"Sir?"

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