The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1916-05-25
CHAPTER |. The Man Who Died
w RETURNED from the city about

o'clock on that May afternoon
 pretty well disgusted with life.
 I had been three months in the old country and was fed mp with It. If any one had told me year ago that l :. weuld have been feeling like that I should have called him liar, but there was the fact.
 The weather made me Hverish; the talk of the ordinary Enghshnnan made me sick; I couldn't get enough exer- else, and the amusements of London seemed as fiat as soda water that has been standing in the sun. Richard -Hannay.' I kept telling myself, you have got into the wrong ditch, my friend, and you had better climb out It made me bite my lips to think of all the plans I had been building up those last years in B1luwayo. had got my pile-not one of the big ones, but good enough for me-and had figured out all kinds of ways of enjoy ing myself.
 My father had brought me out from Scotland at the age of six, and had never been home since; so England was a sort of Arabian Nightss to me, and | counted on stopping there for the rest of my days. But from the first I was disappointed with it
 In about a week was tired of seeing sights, and in less than a month had had enough of restaurants and thea fers and race meetings. I had no real pal to go about with, which probably explains things. Plenty of people in vited me to their houses, but they didn't seem much interested in me. They would ask me g. question or two about South Africa and then get on to <-ES TScrk ladies asked me to tea to meet school masters from New Zealand and editors from Vancouver and that was the dis maIest business of all.
 Here was I, thirty-seven years old, sound in wind and limb, with enough money to have a good time, yawning my head off all day. I had just about settled to clear out and get back to the weld, for I was the best bored man in the United Kingdom
 That afternoon I had been worrying my brokers about investments to give my mind something to work on, and on my way home I turned into my club rather. a pothouse, which took in colo nfal members. I had long drink and read the evening papers. They were full of the row in the near east, and there was an article about Karolides. the Greek premier
 I rather fancied the chap.
 From all accounts he seemed the 01e big man fn the, show, and he played a straight game, too, which was more than could be said for most Of them T gathered that they hated him pretty 1.ackly in Berlin and Vienna, but that we werc going to stick to him, and one paner said that he was the only bar Ansa
 I remember wondering if could get a job in those parts. It struck me that Albania was the sort of place that might kecl q man from yawning.
 About o'clock went home, dress ed, dined at the Cafe Royal and turn ed into a music hall. It was a silly show, all capering women and monkey faced men, and I did not stay long. The night was fine and clear as l walked back to the fiat I had hired near Portland place. The crowd surg ed past me on the pagements, all busy and chattering, and I envied the peo- pic for having something to do
 These shopgiris and clerks and dan dies and policemen had some interest in life that kept them going.
 I gave half a crown to beggar be- cause saw him yawn: he was a fel- low su@erer. At Oxford circus I look ed up into the spring sky and made VOW. I would give the old country another day to fit me into something If nothing happened I would take tho next boat for the Cape.
 My lat was the first floor in a new block behind Langham place.
 There was a common staircase witt