Later on, feeling that I had perhaps been rude, I offered the man a cigar by way of compensation. He accepted it as a mark of esteem and burst forth into more conversation. By now a little fed up with trains himself he suggested, for the sake of something new to say, that he had met me before somewhere. At first I had some idea of asking for my cigar to be returned, but instead I gave in to his persistence. More, I joined in the conversation with an energy which surprised him. "Now I come to think of it we _have_ seen each other before; but where?" I said. He thought promiscuously, disconnectedly and aloud. I could accept none of his suggestions because all referred to commercial rooms in provincial hotels, places to which I have not the _entrée_. "But I know now," I declared brightly; "it was at a place just this side of London that I saw you first." "First?" he asked. "Oh yes," said I. "I have seen you more than once. Surely you haven't forgotten that time at Watford?" He felt that I had the advantage of him. "When was that?" he asked. "Not very long after the first time; and the next occasion I remember seeing you was at a place called--called--something beginning with a B." He was quite unable to cope with the situation. "And the next time," I continued, "I happened to be passing through that town where the school is--you know, Rugby. I distinctly recollect noticing then that you hadn't changed in the least since I last saw you." He couldn't decide whether to be more flattered at my remembering or more annoyed at his own forgetting. "Come, come," I exclaimed, "you surely cannot have forgotten that little chat we had at Coventry?" "Coventry?" he asked. "But how long ago was that?" "Quite recently," I asserted. "But I haven't set foot in Coventry for years," said he. "Nor have I, ever," said I. I could understand his feelings thoroughly. It might be that I was a liar; it might be that I was a lunatic. In either case he did not wish to converse further with me. Happily, I had two newspapers available. * * * * * As the speed of our train, in which of old he had taken such a pride, began to slacken: "And I shouldn't be surprised," I said from behind my paper, "if you and I saw each other again quite soon. The world is a small place and these things soon develop into a habit." He made no answer from behind his paper. "If you ask me when and where" (as in fact he didn't), "I should say it is just as likely as not to happen at Birmingham at about 8.55 P.M.," I estimated, relying upon his own schedule. * * * * * [Illustration: THE SAND CAMPAIGN. SCENE--_Algeria, on the border of the desert_. THE ARAB AND THE CHANCELLOR WERE WALKING HAND-IN-HAND; THE LATTER WEPT A LOT TO SEE SUCH QUANTITIES OF SAND; "WHY ARE YOU HOLDING UP," HE SAID, "THIS VERY FERTILE LAND?"] * * * * *