Dangerous Dilemmas: Startling but True

by James Anderson Peddie

His card bore the address, "Mr. Albert Dove, 1090, Finsbury Square, E.C."

The foregoing conversation took place on the Thames Embankment, near Waterloo Bridge, one stormy night in March of the present year.

Descending Savoy Street on my way to Scotland Yard, I heard a scuffle and a cry for help, and, knowing the bad reputation of the Embankment at that particular spot, I hastened to the rescue—with the result already told.

This chance encounter made me acquainted with a new phase of life abounding in striking scenes touching most notes of the gamut of existence.

My newly-acquired friend was not only peculiar in his speech, his appearance was out of the common. The first thing I noticed was his height, which was over six feet, and he looked taller on account of his high "chimney-pot" hat. His dark top-coat was closely-buttoned up to his chin, and reached down to his heels. It was impossible to judge of the man by his face, as it was covered by a tangled mass of black hair. His moustache and beard showed that not much time was spent in trimming them, and, taking advantage of their freedom, they rivalled each other in roughness and length. In his right hand Mr. Dove carried a heavy stick of black oak, typical of the robust build of the owner, and his recent assailants had cause to congratulate themselves that the suddenness of their attack prevented its being used.

For a man of his dimensions his eyes were exceedingly small, but what they lost in size they made up in brilliancy. If his eyes were diminutive, his arms were long—longer even than his great height justified; and when he walked he threw them about in the most irregular manner, just as if they were ready to go to war with each other, but neither one nor the other cared to take the initiative.

His mode of locomotion would draw attention to him anywhere, be it at church or fair. He was a most inelegant walker; each step seemed to be a combination of the jerk and shuffle, and, coupling this peculiarity with the slightly stooping body and lengthy arms, I thought that the man must be a little deformed, perhaps hump-backed. From a rough-cast individual like this you would naturally expect a harsh voice, but it was quite the reverse; his voice was musical to a degree, and he spoke as softly as any young woman addressing her lover.

It is not often we come across men of his disposition of mind or formation of body. But if the shell was gnarled, the kernel within was sound enough, and, strange as was Mr. Dove's business in life, you had only to become acquainted with him to be convinced that his chief aim was not the amassing of riches, but the well being of the men and women who entrusted their future to him.

But I must not anticipate—the extraordinary circumstances will be narrated as they befell me. Curious to know who Mr. Dove was, and what occupation he followed, I consulted Kelly's Directory, but without being made any the wiser. His name and address were correctly given, but nothing more. The man was unknown at Scotland Yard, except to one officer, who said he recollected the name of Dove cropping up some years ago in connection with a divorce case.