— XXXVIII —THE CABMAN
As the voice of Big Ben came across the Park announcing that it was nine o’clock, Mr. Smithers strolled up Waterloo Place. It was a fine evening, but very cold. A slight shower of sleet had fallen in London during the earlier part of the day; the roads and pavements were like glass. As he strolled up towards the Circus a hansom kept pace at his side, scenting a possible fare. Mr. Smithers smoked as he went. As the hour struck, he removed the cigar from his mouth and stood for a moment to listen. The cabman stopped too; apparently under the impression that the tall figure on the pavement was hesitating whether to walk or ride. Ignoring the driver’s hint, Mr. Smithers continued his leisurely walk. As he approached the Circus he scanned the loiterers and passers-by. At
