"Look here—leave me go!" I cried, thoroughly alarmed. "You've got the wrong man. I'm no the one you're after."
"Are ye no?" he asked me, laughing still. "Are ye no Harry Lauder? Ye look like him, ye talk like him! An' fancy meetin' ye here! Last time I saw ye was in New Cumnock—gie's a shak o' yer haund!"
I shook hands wi' him gladly enough, in my relief, even though he nearly shook the hand off of me. I told him where I was playing the nicht.
"Come and see me," I said. "Here's a bob to buy you a ticket wi'."
He took it, and thanked me. Then, when he had put it awa', he leaned forward.
"Can ye no gie me a free pass for the show, man Harry?" he whispered.
Oh, aye, there are true Scots on the police in London!
CHAPTER XI
Many a strange experience has come to me frae the way it's so easy for folk's that ha' seen me on the stage, or ha' nae mair than seen my picture, maybe, to recognize me. 'Tis an odd thing, too, the confidences that come to me—and to all like mysel', who are known to the public. Folks will come to me, and when I've the time to listen, they'll tell me their most private and sacred affairs. I dinna quite ken why—I know I've heard things told to me that ha' made me feel as a priest hearing confession must.
Some of the experiences are amusing; some ha' been close to being tragic—not for me, but for those who came to me. I'm always glad to help when I can, and it's a strange thing how often ye can help just by lendin' a fellow creature the use o' your ears for a wee space. I've a time or two in mind I'll be tellin' ye aboot.