father and a consumptive buttonhole-maker for my mother. I suppose I knew what I was about. Quite the right thing for me to have done, as it turned out."
I stared at him, wondering whether he was speaking seriously or in grim jest. He was given at times to making odd remarks. There was a vein of the fantastic in him that was continually cropping out and astonishing me.
"It was a bit risky," I suggested. "Better choose something a little safer next time."
He looked round at me sharply, and, not quite sure of his mood, I kept a grave face.
"Perhaps you are right," he agreed, with a laugh. "We must have a talk about it one day."
After that visit to the Goortgasse he was less reserved with me, and would often talk to me on subjects that I should never have guessed would have interested him. I found him a curious mixture. Behind the shrewd, cynical man of business I caught continual glimpses of the visionary.
I parted from him at The Hague. He paid my fare back to London, and gave me an extra pound for travelling expenses, to-
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