It was then I saw that he had merely wished to attract the
attention of some one passing in a cab. Half a block down the
boulevard I saw a man likewise waving excitedly, standing erect in the
cab to do so. The cab thereupon turned sharply, came back on the
opposite side of the street, crossed over to us, and the occupant
alighted.
He was an American, as one might have fancied from his behaviour, a
tall, dark-skinned person, wearing a drooping moustache after the
former style of Cousin Egbert, supplemented by an imperial. He wore a
loose-fitting suit of black which had evidently received no proper
attention from the day he purchased it. Under a folded collar he wore
a narrow cravat tied in a bowknot, and in the bosom of his white shirt
there sparkled a diamond such as might have come from a collection of
crown-jewels. This much I had time to notice as he neared us. Cousin
Egbert had not ceased to shout, nor had he paid the least attention to
my tugs at his coat. When the cab's occupant descended to the pavement
they fell upon each other and did for some moments a wild dance such
as I imagine they might have seen the red Indians of western America
perform. Most savagely they punched each other, calling out in the
meantime: "Well, old horse!" and "Who'd ever expected to see you here,
darn your old skin!" (Their actual phrases, be it remembered.
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