“Can you tell me where Hawk Street is?” I inquired at last of a fellow-passenger after a great inward struggle.
“Hawk Street? Yes. Go through Popman’s Alley, and up the second court to the left—that’ll bring you to Hawk Street.”
“But uncle said it turned—” My guide had vanished!
I diligently sought for Popman’s Alley, which I found to be a long paved passage between two high blocks of buildings, and leading apparently nowhere; at least I could discover no outlet, either at the end or either side. Every one was in such a hurry that I dared not “pop the question” as to the whereabouts of Hawk Street again, but made my way back once more to the entrance. By this time I was so muddled that for the life of me I could not tell which was the street I had come down, still less how I could get back to it.
Ask my way I must, if I died for it! Ten o’clock had struck ten minutes ago, and I was due at Merrett, Barnacle, and Company’s at 10:15.
I noticed a boy ahead of me walking rather more slowly than the rest. I would ask him, and stick to him till he put me right. So I made up to him boldly.
“Will you show me the way to Hawk Street, please?” I said, as I came up.
He turned round suddenly as I spoke. Was it possible? Here, in London, where one might as soon expect to meet a body one knows as meet the man in the moon!
It was my friend Smith!
“Jack!” I exclaimed.