Nevertheless, his final decision was in favor of the
first impulse. Von Kerber had treated him with confidence--why should
he wish to possess any disturbing knowledge of von Kerber?
But he refused to be shadowed like a thief. He stepped out, left the
park at Stanhope Gate, jumped on to a passing omnibus, changed it for
another in the middle of Oxford Street, and walked down. Regent Street
with a well-founded belief that he had defeated espionage for the time.
Thereafter, he behaved exactly like several hundred thousand young men
In London that night. He dined, bought some cigars, rare luxuries to
him, went to a music-hall, soon wearied of its inanities, and traveled
by an early train to Brixton, where he rented cheap lodgings.
He slept the sleep of sound digestion, which is so often confused with
a good conscience, and rose betimes. At a city tailoring establishment
he was measured dubiously, being far removed from stock size. But a
principal made light of difficulties, and Royson noticed that he was to
be supplied with riding breeches and boots in addition to a sea-faring
kit, while a _sola topi_, or pith helmet, appeared, in the list.
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