Then in turning he had somehow mislaid that emphatically inconspicuous path—which still did not consort with dictionary definitions—and he found he had lost cairns and directions into the bargain. He had therefore been stumbling around down there, until he had at last broken through into the open—and then, thank Heaven! he had seen some one he could ask.
Having thus delivered himself he ran down, panting. His narrative had been shot out, not perhaps in one breath, but in a staccato succession of breaths; he stumbled into a few periods, but they were clearly rhetorical only, and not intended for full stops. The state of his trim brown business suit—for he was dressed as if for Tremont Street—the scratches on his shining tan shoes—for traces of high polish still lingered amid abrasions—his scratched but well-cared-for hands, his hat pushed back from a rubicund, reeking countenance, which, in spite of his difficulties, showed, the observer was interested to note, an in-
