The general atmosphere of the place suggested an inn or tavern. It was with the two men in the foreground, however, that something told me I was most concerned. They appeared to be about the same age and of the same class; but there all similarity ended. The one was tall and thin, with dark, deep-set, and very restless eyes--and oddly noticeable hands. They were large and sinewy, with peculiarly long fingers and protruding knuckles. His companion was small and shrivelled, with watery blue eyes and a particularly weak mouth.
"Strange we should meet like this, John," the shorter of the two remarked, taking a big gulp of ale. "Ten years since we last saw one another, and that was in Bristol. Do you recollect the occasion?"
"Do I recollect it?" the other responded. "Can I ever forget it? You had just come from her. She had accepted you. Money, of course. I had nothing to offer her but love. Love! What's the good of love without prospects?"
"Fair fight, Wilfred!" John replied. "You may call it fair, if you like, but I don't. What chance had I when you pointed to your bank-book and said, 'If I die I can settle all that on her'? I could promise nothing. I hadn't a cent in the world beyond my weekly pay. Thirty shillings. And how pleased you were with yourself when you came to see me that last evening in Bristol. Do you remember what you said? 'It's the fortune of war, my boy. You'll soon get over it. Work.' As if I didn't work! But I took your advice, though I hated you for it; and I left Bristol. After what had happened I loathed the place. An uncle of mine offered me a clerkship in his office in Holborn, and I stuck so hard to my job that I eventually became a partner."
"And you've forgiven me? Got over that little love affair, eh? Well, well. Matrimony is not all bliss, John. At least that was my experience. Poor Jenny! But of course I have not told you. I'm much to be pitied, John."
"She is," Wilfred said, filling his mug with ale and raising it to his lips, "and I'm a lonely widower. But how did you know?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," John replied. "I get my information through channels that are barred to men like you."
"Witchcraft, I suppose," Wilfred said, with a sneer. "But why this mystery? Someone in Bristol city wrote to you."
