"I was almost afraid I had missed you," he began, as we came up with him. "Perhaps as it is such a fine day you would rather walk than ride?"
"I beg your pardon," I answered. "I'm really afraid you have the advantage of me."
"But you have asked me to lunch with you at the Quebec. You told me to call a hansom."
"Pardon me again! but you are really mistaken. I said I was going to lunch at the Quebec, and asked you if it was far enough to be worth while taking a hansom. That is your hansom, not mine. If you don't require it any longer, I should advise you to pay the man and let him go."
"You are a swindler, sir. I refuse to pay the cabman. It is your hansom."
I took a step closer to my fine gentleman, and, looking him full in the face, said as quietly as possible, for I didn't want all the street to hear:
"Mr. Dorunda Dodson, let this be a lesson to you. Perhaps you'll think twice next time before you try your little games on me!"
He stepped back as if he had been shot, hesitated a moment, and then jumped into his cab and drove off in the opposite direction. When he had gone I looked at my astonished companion.
"Well, now," he ejaculated at last, "how on earth did you manage that?"
"Very easily," I replied. "I happened to remember having met that gentleman up in our part of the world when he was in a very awkward position—very awkward. By his action just now I should say that he has not forgotten the circumstance any more than I have."