For a moment Vibart thought that he was wandering; but he raised his head and went on speaking in more natural tones. “I daresay I appeared ridiculous enough to you just now, eh? Perhaps you saw all along that the horses weren’t running? Your eyes are younger than mine; and then you’re not always looking out for runaways, as I am. Do you know that in thirty years I’ve never seen a runaway?” “You’re fortunate,” said Vibart, still bewildered. “Fortunate? Good God, man, I’ve _prayed_ to see one: not a runaway especially, but any bad accident; anything that endangered people’s lives. There are accidents happening all the time all over the world; why shouldn’t I ever come across one? It’s not for want of trying! At one time I used to haunt the theatres in the hope of a fire: fires in theatres are so apt to be fatal. Well, will you believe it? I was in the Brooklyn theatre the night before it burned down; I left the old Madison Square Garden half an hour before the walls fell in. And it’s the same way with street accidents--I always miss them; I’m always just too late. Last year there was a boy knocked down by a cable-car at our corner; I got to my gate just as they were carrying him off on a stretcher. And so it goes. If anybody else had been walking along this road, those horses would have been running away. And there was a girl in the buggy, too--a mere child!” Mr. Carstyle’s head sank again. “You’re wondering what this means,” he began after another pause. “I was a little confused for a moment--must have seemed incoherent.” His voice cleared and he made an effort to straighten himself. “Well, I was a damned coward once and I’ve been trying to live it down ever since.” Vibart looked at him incredulously and Mr. Carstyle caught the look with a smile. “Why not? Do I look like a Hercules?” He held up his loose-skinned hand and shrunken wrist. “Not built for the part, certainly; but that doesn’t count, of course. Man’s unconquerable soul, and all the rest of it ... well, I was a coward every inch of me, body and soul.” He paused and glanced up and down the road. There was no one in sight. “It happened when I was a young chap just out of college. I was travelling round the world with another youngster of my own age and an older man--Charles Meriton--who has since made a name for himself. You may have heard of him.” “Meriton, the archaeologist? The man who discovered those ruined African cities the other day?”