' The noisiest and
the most vulgar of the four was the one with the concertina.
"I followed them on to the pier, and then, hurrying past, waited for them
under a gas-lamp. When the man with the concertina came into the light
and I saw him clearly I started. From the face I could have sworn it was
Joseph; but everything else about him rendered such an assumption
impossible. Putting aside the time and the place, and forgetting his
behaviour, his companions, and his instrument, what remained was
sufficient to make the suggestion absurd. Joseph was always clean
shaven; this youth had a smudgy moustache and a pair of incipient red
whiskers. He was dressed in the loudest check suit I have ever seen, off
the stage. He wore patent-leather boots with mother-of-pearl buttons,
and a necktie that in an earlier age would have called down lightning out
of Heaven. He had a low-crowned billycock hat on his head, and a big
evil-smelling cigar between his lips.
"Argue as I would, however, the face was the face of Joseph; and, moved
by a curiosity I could not control, I kept near him, watching him.
"Once, for a little while, I missed him; but there was not much fear of
losing that suit for long, and after a little looking about I struck it
again. He was sitting at the end of the pier, where it was less crowded,
with his arm round a girl's waist.
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