the slightest transitory glimpses of the drama within, of how the things

looked in the magic mirror of Mr. Hoopdriver's mind. On the road to

Guildford and during his encounters with his haunting fellow-cyclists

the drama had presented chiefly the quiet gentleman to whom we have

alluded, but at Guildford, under more varied stimuli, he burgeoned out

more variously. There was the house agent's window, for instance, set

him upon a charming little comedy. He would go in, make inquires about

that thirty-pound house, get the key possibly and go over it--the thing

would stimulate the clerk's curiosity immensely. He searched his mind

for a reason for this proceeding and discovered that he was a dynamiter

needing privacy. Upon that theory he procured the key, explored the

house carefully, said darkly that it might suit his special needs,

but that there were OTHERS to consult. The clerk, however, did not

understand the allusion, and merely pitied him as one who had married

young and paired himself to a stronger mind than his own.

This proceeding in some occult way led to the purchase of a note-book

and pencil, and that started the conception of an artist taking notes.

That was a little game Mr. Hoopdriver had, in congenial company, played

in his still younger days--to the infinite annoyance of quite a number

of respectable excursionists at Hastings. In early days Mr. Hoopdriver

had been, as his mother proudly boasted, a 'bit of a drawer,' but a

conscientious and normally stupid schoolmaster perceived the incipient

talent and had nipped it in the bud by a series of lessons in art.

However, our principal character figured about quite happily in old

corners of Guildford, and once the other man in brown, looking out of

The Wheels of Chance