It was late afternoon, on a certain grey and dismal day, toward the latter part of February, that two men happened to encounter each other, after a long interval, upon the steps of the Migrants' Club. The one--a tall, well-built, and exceedingly handsome man, with blond curly hair, and beard and moustache to match--was entering the building; while the other--a much shorter and stouter figure, with a cast of features which rendered his German origin unmistakable--was standing upon the top step, puffing at a cigar, as he leisurely drew on his gloves preparatory to his emergence upon the street.…
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