A friend—and a mysterious stranger.
“Hillo, Singleton, old chap, how are you?” exclaimed a young fellow of about eighteen years of age, as he laid his hand upon the shoulder of a lad about his own age, who, on a certain fine July day in the year of grace 1894, was standing gazing into the window of a shop in Piccadilly.
The speaker was a somewhat slightly-built youth, rather tall and slim, by no means ill-looking, of sallow...
more...