The other cab was following, and I wondered what I was "in for," when we drew up at my studio--the girl appeared to be so terrified that I gave her my key and told her to go in while I prepared to settle matters. As I alighted, I saw two rough-looking men getting off the back of the other cab. They looked such thorough blackguards that it occurred to me the girl's fears were not without grounds. Before I could pay the cabby, the woman alighted and started to abuse me, while the bullies lurked behind. Catching sight of a policeman sauntering up the road, I called to him to rid me of my unpleasant companions, but at his approach the woman changed her tune to a sort of snivelling self-righteousness, and said to the constable:-- "This man's my husband, I've just caught him in the very act of going off with another woman, he has deserted me cruelly." The man looked from my face to hers in immediate understanding, and said in conciliatory tones, which betrayed a strong Lancashire accent. "Why doant ye go 'ome with yer wife?" "You ass. She's no more my wife than you are," I said hotly--for I was furious. "I have the marriage certificate," broke in the woman with a well-simulated sob. "Look 'ere," remonstrated the policeman. "Come naow," and he tried to force me into her cab. This was too much for me. "Look here," I said angrily. "We'll end this farce. I'm going to the police station, and you shall come with me." So we drove off in our respective cabs, by now the two men had disappeared. At the police station, the woman still kept up her foolish acting; after hearing my case, the inspector cross-questioned her. "What name?" She thoughtlessly gave her own, not knowing mine, and once again referred theatrically to the marriage certificate. An expression of dawning remembrance passed over the inspector's face, and after opening another book, he turned the pages until pausing, he read quietly for a moment. "Yes, I have it," he said. "You were imprisoned for violent assault, fined, and were only released yesterday. You had better go about your business." The woman did not appear disturbed or non-plussed when she knew her identity was exposed, but still dogged my footsteps. After my experience of the evening, I refused to go home without a police escort, and all the way my strange adventuress followed us, still abusive, until at last, on nearing my studio, she disappeared. I found my door open as the little model had left it when she had evidently fled in her fear to her home. I often wonder what object the woman and her two attendant blackguards had in pursuing me. I am glad to think I escaped with a whole skin from an incomprehensible adventure. Another episode which resulted in my actually appearing in the courts, this time not as a spectator, but as the plaintiff in a case which I brought against an omnibus company, occurred some time back.