THE MAN MAKES THE TAILOR.
(Fragment from a Seasonable Romance.)
It was towards the close of the London season of 1893 that a man in a strange garb was seen at an early hour in the East End of London. He attracted considerable attention. It was a rough part of the City, still, those who lived there were conventional in their costume. They wore black coats, and there was a certain respectability about their hats. But the man to whom we refer was eccentric in the extreme. His straw hat was worn at the back of his head, his cut-away coat was thrown open, showing a huge, collarless coloured cotton shirt. He had flannel trousers tucked into digger's boots. No one knew whence he came, whither he was going.
"Have you noticed him?" asked the Inspector.
"Yes, Sir," replied the Police Constable, "he's got white hands, so if he belongs to the dangerous classes, he is a smasher, or a forger, or something genteel in that line."
"Well, keep your eye upon him."
"I will, Sir."
And the strange-looking person continued his way. As he walked through the City, the merchants regarded him with surprise, but there were those amongst the stockbrokers who seemed to receive him with recognition.
"I fancy I have seen the Johnnie somewhere before," observed one Member of the House to another. "I am almost sure I know the cut of his suit."
And the man walked on until he reached Knightsbridge. There he was stopped by an elderly, well-dressed, well-to-do individual, who had evidently just come up from the country. The two pedestrians started back when they met face to face.
"What are you doing in that hideous disguise?" asked the senior of the junior.
"It is no disguise, father," was the reply; "it is only the customary get up of a young man of fashion between the hours of nine and eleven when he proposes to walk in the park."
And, with these words, the strange apparition crossed over the road, and entered Rotten Row. And here he was soon lost in a crowd quite as eccentrically garbed as himself.