Markham thanked the officer for his civility, and then struck into the nearest street leading from the Holy Land to Tottenham Court Road, where he hoped to find a vehicle to take him home.
But scarcely had he proceeded twenty paces, when he heard hasty footsteps behind him; and, turning round, was accosted by a man whose slouched hat almost entirely shaded his countenance.
"I beg your pardon, sir," said the man; "but I heard you mention two names a few moments ago that are familiar to me."
"Indeed!" cried our hero, surprised at this strange mode of address.
"Yes:—I was lurking in a court, and I heard you say that you were Mr. Richard Markham," resumed the man: "and you mentioned a certain Anthony Tidkins."
"I did. Do you know him?" demanded Richard.
"But too well," answered the man bitterly.
"Who are you?" inquired Markham.
"No matter who I am: I know you—and I know him. I was in a certain place at the same time that you were there; though we were not in the same ward. But I heard all about you then; and when you mentioned your name just now, I felt sure you was the same person. Has Tidkins ever injured you?"
"Cruelly," replied Richard. "But I am not influenced by petty motives of revenge: I am anxious to deliver a monster into the grasp of justice."