His Other Self

It was a year or two ago now. I was sitting one evening at the gate, smoking a pipe and looking at a newspaper I had found in the office, when I see a gentleman coming along from the swing-bridge. Well- dressed, clean-shaved chap he was, smoking a cigarette. He was walking slow and looking about him casual-like, until his eyes fell on me, when he gave a perfect jump of surprise, and, arter looking at me very hard, walked on a little way and then turned back. He did it twice, and I was just going to say something to him, something that I had been getting ready for him, when he spoke to me.