There was a momentary pause. I expected the man, whoever he might be, to run, but he held his ground. Indeed, he edged forward. 'Get back!' I said, and allowed my stick to rasp suggestively on the road before raising it in readiness for any sudden development. It was as well that he should know it was there. The hint seemed to wound rather than frighten him. 'Aw, cut out the rough stuff, bo,' he said reproachfully in a cautious, husky undertone. 'I ain't goin' to start anything.' I had an impression that I had heard the voice before, but I could not place it. 'What are you following me for?' I demanded. 'Who are you?' 'Say, I want a talk wit youse. I took a slant at youse under de lamp-post back dere, an' I seen it was you, so I tagged along. Say, I'm wise to your game, sport.' I had identified him by this time. Unless there were two men in the neighbourhood of Sanstead who hailed from the Bowery, this must be the man I had seen at the 'Feathers' who had incurred the disapproval of Miss Benjafield. 'I haven't the faintest idea what you mean,' I said. 'What is my game?' His voice became reproachful again. 'Ah chee!' he protested. 'Quit yer kiddin'! What was youse rubberin' around de house for last night if you wasn't trailin' de kid?' 'Was it you who ran into me last night?' I asked. 'Gee! I fought it was a tree. I came near takin' de count.' 'I did take it. You seemed in a great hurry.' 'Hell!' said the man simply, and expectorated. 'Say,' he resumed, having delivered this criticism on that stirring episode, dat's a great kid, dat Nugget. I fought it was a Black Hand soup explosion when he cut loose. But, say, let's don't waste time. We gotta get together about dat kid.' 'Certainly, if you wish it. What do you happen to mean?' 'Aw, quit yer kiddin'!' He expectorated again. He seemed to be a man who could express the whole gamut of emotions by this simple means. 'I know you!' 'Then you have the advantage of me, though I believe I remember seeing you before. Weren't you at the "Feathers" one Wednesday evening, singing something about a dog?' 'Sure. Dat was me.' 'What do you mean by saying that you know me?' 'Aw, quit yer kiddin', Sam!' There was, it seemed to me, a reluctantly admiring note in his voice. 'Tell me, who do you think I am?' I asked patiently. 'Ahr ghee! You can't string me, sport. Smooth Sam Fisher, is who you are, bo. I know you.' I was too surprised to speak. Verily, some have greatness thrust upon them.