part of the man of the world, of the detective born and bred. This

clue, which the whole town beholds without comprehension, swift as

a cat, he leaps upon it, makes it his, follows it with craft and

passion, and from one trifling circumstance divines a world.'

'Just so,' said Challoner; 'and I am delighted that you should

recognise these virtues in yourself. But in the meanwhile, dear

boy, I own myself incapable of joining. I was neither born nor

bred as a detective, but as a placable and very thirsty gentleman;

and, for my part, I begin to weary for a drink. As for clues and

adventures, the only adventure that is ever likely to occur to me

will be an adventure with a bailiff.'

'Now there is the fallacy,' cried Somerset. 'There I catch the

secret of your futility in life. The world teems and bubbles with

adventure; it besieges you along the street: hands waving out of

windows, swindlers coming up and swearing they knew you when you

were abroad, affable and doubtful people of all sorts and

conditions begging and truckling for your notice. But not you:

you turn away, you walk your seedy mill round, you must go the

dullest way. Now here, I beg of you, the next adventure that

offers itself, embrace it in with both your arms; whatever it

looks, grimy or romantic, grasp it. I will do the like; the devil

is in it, but at least we shall have fun; and each in turn we shall

narrate the story of our fortunes to my philosophic friend of the

divan, the great Godall, now hearing me with inward joy. Come, is

it a bargain? Will you, indeed, both promise to welcome every

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