"Nothing. Only I desire to know that man's name. I have had an experience with him." "Indeed! You're not the first, then; have you been up to anything shady, Stone?" said Moore, laughingly. "No, only smoky--a fire. This man saved a child's life in a magnificent manner. What's his name?" "Oh! I see. His name is Oakes. You should know that. He left college just a year or so after you and I entered. Don't you remember the fellow who saved those boys from drowning in the harbor that day?" "You don't tell me! Is that Quintus Oakes? I never met him, but of course I knew him; everybody at college did, after that." "Yes, that's the same fellow." "Well, I certainly did not recognize his face. Only saw it a moment, but there was something about him that seemed familiar--that _walk_ of his--I remember it now." As the memories of youth crowded upon me I recalled him well, and realized that the years had filled out his figure and face; but it was the same man, the same walk and carriage--I had seen them hundreds of times. The quick, easy stride, erect figure and commanding bearing that had marked him so in his youth were as noticeable now, in his full manhood, as in those years of the long ago. My companion and I did not return for the last act of the play, but strolled out in the street, where I told him of the episode of the fire and the part that Oakes had played in it. "His actions, both at the time and afterwards when he tried to avoid notice, are characteristic," said Moore. "He is reputed as doing things vigorously and opportunely. His presence of mind is marvellous, I am told. You remember, he had that gift years back in college. Now, it seems to have developed greatly, until everybody who knows him well speaks of it." "Are you well acquainted with him? You seem to know all about him." "Yes, indeed," answered my friend. "I met him one night several years back, and I became so attracted to him that I cultivated his acquaintance wherever possible." "Then you will understand how I was glad to identify him," was my rejoinder. "Yes, indeed; if you like, you can easily manage to meet him." I expressed my earnest desire, and Dr. Moore promised to arrange it so that we could meet some evening at the Club. "By the way," said my companion, "he is probably the best informed, all-round man you have ever met. He did not cease learning at college." "Lucky for him," I exclaimed laughingly. "Well, don't be surprised if he starts in to discuss law with you, and holds you up at your own profession; he is a surprise party, sometimes." "All right, but what is his business?" Moore looked at me, and said: "He is one of the most original detectives in the country." "Oh, a detective. Along what lines? He surely is no ordinary one at that business."