The new visitor found Larcher waiting in expectation of being either bored or startled, as a man usually is by callers who come anonymously. But when a tall, somewhat bent, white-bearded old man with baggy black clothes appeared in the doorway, Larcher jumped up smiling.
“Why, Mr. Bud! This is a pleasant surprise!”
Mr. Bud, from a somewhat timid and embarrassed state, was warmed into heartiness by Larcher's welcome, and easily induced to doff his overcoat and be comfortable before the fire. “I thought, as you'd gev me your address, you wouldn't object—” Mr. Bud began with a beaming countenance; but suddenly stopped short and looked thoughtful. “Say—I met a young man down-stairs, goin' out.”
“Mr. Turl probably. He just left me. A neat-looking, smooth-faced young man, smartly dressed.”
“That's him. What name did you say?”
“Turl.”
“Never heard the name. But I've seen that young fellow somewhere. It's funny: as I looked round at 'im just now, it seemed to me all at wunst as if I'd met that same young man in that same place a long time ago. But I've never been in this house before, so it couldn't 'a' been in that same place.”
“We often have that feeling—of precisely the same thing having happened a long time ago. Dickens mentions it in 'David Copperfield.' There's a scientific theory—”
“Yes, I know, but this wasn't exactly that. It was, an' it wasn't. I'm dead sure I did reely meet that chap in some such place. An' a funny thing is, somehow or other you was concerned in the other meeting like you are in this.”
“Well, that's interesting,” said Larcher, recalling how Turl had once seemed to be haunting his footsteps.