''Oh, I carn't stand 'er,' was his reply; 'she gives me the bloomin' 'ump. You 'ave a turn with 'er.'
'His friend disappeared in the direction of 'Liza, and Joe pushed into the room, I keeping close behind him. Now that he was alone I was determined to speak to him. The longer I had studied his features the more resemblance I had found in them to those of my superior friend Joseph.
'He was leaning across the bar, clamouring for two of gin, when I tapped him on the shoulder. He turned his head, and the moment he saw me, his face went livid.
''Mr. Joseph Smythe, I believe,' I said with a smile.
''Who's Mr. Joseph Smythe?' he answered hoarsely; 'my name's Smith, I ain't no bloomin' Smythe. Who are you? I don't know yer.'
'As he spoke, my eyes rested upon a curious gold ring of Indian workmanship which he wore upon his left hand. There was no mistaking the ring, at all events: it had been passed round the club on more than one occasion as a unique curiosity. His eyes followed my gaze. He burst into tears, and pushing me before him into a quiet corner of the saloon, sat down facing me.
''Don't give me away, old man,' he whimpered; 'for Gawd's sake, don't let on to any of the chaps 'ere that I'm a member of that blessed old waxwork show in Saint James's: they'd never speak to me agen. And keep yer mug shut about Oxford, there's a good sort. I wouldn't 'ave 'em know as 'ow I was one o' them college blokes for anythink.'
'I sat aghast. I had listened to hear him entreat me to keep 'Smith,' the rorty 'Arry, a secret from the acquaintances of 'Smythe,' the superior person. Here was 'Smith' in mortal terror lest his pals should hear of his identity with the aristocratic 'Smythe,' and discard him. His attitude puzzled me at the time, but, when I came to reflect, my wonder was at myself for having expected the opposite.
''I carn't 'elp it,' he went on; 'I 'ave to live two lives. 'Arf my time I'm a stuck-up prig, as orter be jolly well kicked?'
''At which times,' I interrupted, 'I have heard you express some extremely uncomplimentary opinions concerning 'Arries.'
''I know,' he replied, in a voice betraying strong emotion; 'that's where it's so precious rough on me. When I'm a toff I despises myself, 'cos I knows that underneath my sneering phiz I'm a bloomin' 'Arry. When I'm an 'Arry, I 'ates myself 'cos I knows I'm a toff.'
''Can't you decide which character you prefer, and stick to it?' I asked.
''No,' he answered, 'I carn't. It's a rum thing, but whichever I am, sure as fate, 'bout the end of a month I begin to get sick o' myself.'
''I can quite understand it,' I murmured; 'I should give way myself in a fortnight.'
''I've been myself, now,' he continued, without noticing my remark, 'for somethin' like ten days. One mornin', in 'bout three weeks' time, I shall get up in my diggins in the Mile End Road, and I shall look round the room, and at these clothes 'angin' over the bed, and at this yer concertina' (he gave it an affectionate squeeze), 'and I shall feel myself gettin' scarlet all over. Then I shall jump out o' bed, and look at myself in the glass. 'You howling little cad,' I shall say to myself, 'I have half a mind to strangle you'; and I shall shave myself, and put on a quiet blue serge suit and a bowler 'at, tell my landlady to keep my rooms for me till I comes back, slip out o' the 'ouse, and into the fust 'ansom I meets, and back to the Halbany. And a month arter that, I shall come into my chambers at the Halbany, fling Voltaire and Parini into the fire, shy me 'at at the bust of good old 'Omer, slip on my blue suit agen, and back to the Mile End Road.'
''How do you explain your absence to both parties?' I asked.
''Oh, that's simple enough,' he replied. 'I just tells my 'ousekeeper at the Halbany as I'm goin' on the Continong; and my mates 'ere thinks I'm a traveller.'
''Nobody misses me much,' he added, pathetically; 'I hain't a partic'larly fetchin' sort o' bloke, either of me. I'm sich an out-and-outer. When I'm an 'Arry, I'm too much of an 'Arry, and when I'm a prig, I'm a reg'lar fust prize prig. Seems to me as if I was two ends of a man without any middle. If I could only mix myself up a bit more, I'd be all right.'
'He sniffed once or twice, and then he laughed. 'Ah, well,' he said, casting aside his momentary gloom; 'it's all a game, and wot's the odds so long as yer 'appy. 'Ave a wet?'
'I declined the wet, and left him playing sentimental airs to himself upon the concertina.
'One afternoon, about a month later, the servant came to me with a card on which was engraved the name of 'Mr. Joseph Smythe.' I requested her to show him up. He entered with his usual air of languid superciliousness, and seated himself in a graceful attitude upon the sofa.
''Well,' I said, as soon as the girl had closed the door behind her, 'so you've got rid of Smith?'
'A sickly smile passed over his face. 'You have not mentioned it to any one?' he asked anxiously.
''Not to a soul,' I replied; 'though I confess I often feel tempted to.'
''I sincerely trust you never will,' he said, in a tone of alarm. 'You can have no conception of the misery the whole thing causes me. I cannot understand it. What possible affinity there can be between myself and that disgusting little snob passes my comprehension. I assure you, my dear Mac, the knowledge that I was a ghoul, or a vampire, would cause me less nausea than the reflection that I am one and the same with that odious little Whitechapel bounder. When I think of him every nerve in my body?'
''Don't think about him any more,' I interrupted, perceiving his strongly-suppressed emotion. 'You didn't come here to talk about him, I'm sure. Let us dismiss him.'
''Well,' he replied, 'in a certain roundabout way it is slightly connected with him. That is really my excuse for inflicting the subject upon you. You are the only man I CAN speak to about it?if I shall not bore you?'
''Not in the least,' I said. 'I am most interested.' As he still hesitated, I asked him point-blank what it was.
'He appeared embarrassed. 'It is really very absurd of me,' he said, while the faintest suspicion of pink crossed his usually colourless face; 'but I feel I must talk to somebody about it. The fact is, my dear Mac, I am in love.'
''Capital!' I cried; 'I'm delighted to hear it.' (I thought it might make a man of him.) 'Do I know the lady?'
''I am inclined to think you must have seen her,' he replied; 'she was with me on the pier at Yarmouth that evening you met me.'
''Not 'Liza!' I exclaimed.
''That was she,' he answered; 'Miss Elizabeth Muggins.' He dwelt lovingly upon the name.
''But,' I said, 'you seemed?I really could not help noticing, it was so pronounced?you seemed to positively dislike her. Indeed, I gathered from your remark to a friend that her society was distinctly distasteful to you.'
''To Smith,' he corrected me. 'What judge would that howling little blackguard be of a woman's worth! The dislike of such a man as that is a testimonial to her merit!'
''I may be mistaken,' I said; 'but she struck me as a bit common.'
''She is not, perhaps, what the world would call a lady,' he admitted; 'but then, my dear Mac, my opinion of the world is not such as to render ITS opinion of much value to me. I and the world differ on most subjects, I am glad to say. She is beautiful, and she is good, and she is my choice.'
''She's a jolly enough little girl,' I replied, 'and, I should say, affectionate; but have you considered, Smythe, whether she is quite?what shall we say?quite as intellectual as could be desired?'
''Really, to tell the truth, I have not troubled myself much about her intellect,' he replied, with one of his sneering smiles. 'I have no doubt that the amount of intellect absolutely necessary to the formation of a British home, I shall be able to supply myself. I have no desire for an intellectual wife. One is compelled to meet tiresome people, but one does not live with them if one can avoid it.'
''No,' he continued, reverting to his more natural tone; 'the more I think of Elizabeth the more clear it becomes to me that she is the one woman in the world for whom marriage with me is possible. I perceive that to the superficial observer my selection must appear extraordinary. I do not pretend to explain it, or even to understand it. The study of mankind is beyond man. Only fools attempt it. Maybe it is her contrast to myself that attracts me. Maybe my, perhaps, too spiritual nature feels the need of contact with her coarser clay to perfect itself. I cannot tell. These things must always remain mysteries. I only know that I love her?that, if any reliance is to be placed upon instinct, she is the mate to whom Artemis is leading me.'
'It was clear that he was in love, and I therefore ceased to argue with him. 'You kept up your
