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INTRODUCTION

In giving to the world the record of what, looked at as an adventure
only, is I suppose one of the most wonderful and mysterious experiences
ever undergone by mortal men, I feel it incumbent on me to explain what
my exact connection with it is. And so I may as well say at once that I
am not the narrator but only the editor of this extraordinary history,
and then go on to tell how it found its way into my hands.

Some years ago I, the editor, was stopping with a friend, "_vir
doctissimus et amicus neus_," at a certain University, which for the
purposes of this history we will call Cambridge, and was one day much
struck with the appearance of two persons whom I saw going arm-in-arm
down the street. One of these gentlemen was I think, without exception,
the handsomest young fellow I have ever seen. He was very tall, very
broad, and had a look of power and a grace of bearing that seemed as
native to him as it is to a wild stag. In addition his face was almost
without flaw--a good face as well as a beautiful one, and when he lifted
his hat, which he did just then to a passing lady, I saw that his head
was covered with little golden curls growing close to the scalp.

"Good gracious!" I said to my friend, with whom I was walking, "why,
that fellow looks like a statue of Apollo come to life. What a splendid
man he is!"

"Yes," he answered, "he is the handsomest man in the University, and one
of the nicest too. They call him 'the Greek god'; but look at the other
one, he's Vincey's (that's the god's name) guardian, and supposed to be
full of every kind of information. They call him 'Charon.'" I looked,
and found the older man quite as interesting in his way as the glorified
specimen of humanity at his side. He appeared to be about forty years
of age, and was I think as ugly as his companion was handsome. To begin
with, he was shortish, rather bow-legged, very deep chested, and with
unusually long arms. He had dark hair and small eyes, and the hair grew
right down on his forehead, and his whiskers grew right up to his hair,
so that there was uncommonly little of his countenance to be seen.
Altogether he reminded me forcibly of a gorilla, and yet there was
something very pleasing and genial about the man's eye. I remember
saying that I should like to know him.

"All right," answered my friend, "nothing easier. I know Vincey;
I'll introduce you," and he did, and for some minutes we stood
chatting--about the Zulu people, I think, for I had just returned from
the Cape at the time. Presently, however, a stoutish lady, whose name
I do not remember, came along the pavement, accompanied by a pretty
fair-haired girl, and these two Mr. Vincey, who clearly knew them well,
at once joined, walking off in their company. I remember being rather
amused because of the change in the expression of the elder man, whose
name I discovered was Holly, when he saw the ladies advancing. He
suddenly stopped short in his talk, cast a reproachful look at his
companion, and, with an abrupt nod to myself, turned and marched off
alone across the street. I heard afterwards that he was popularly
supposed to be as much afraid of a woman as most people are of a mad
dog, which accounted for his precipitate retreat. I cannot say, however,
that young Vincey showed much aversion to feminine society on this
occasion. Indeed I remember laughing, and remarking to my friend at
the time that he was not the sort of man whom it would be desirable to
introduce to the lady one was going to marry, since it was exceedingly
probable that the acquaintance would end in a transfer of her
affections. He was altogether too good-looking, and, what is more,
he had none of that consciousness and conceit about him which usually
afflicts handsome men, and makes them deservedly disliked by their
fellows.

That same evening my visit came to an end, and this was the last I saw
or heard of "Charon" and "the Greek god" for many a long day. Indeed, I
have never seen either of them from that hour to this, and do not think
it probable that I shall. But a month ago I received a letter and two
packets, one of manuscript, and on opening the first found that it was
signed by "Horace Holly," a name that at the moment was not familiar to
me. It ran as follows:--

"---- College, Cambridge, May 1, 18--

"My dear Sir,--You will be surprised, considering the very slight nature
of our acquaintance, to get a letter from me. Indeed, I think I had
better begin by reminding you that we once met, now some five years ago,
when I and my ward Leo Vincey were introduced to you in the street at
Cambridge.