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The Man Who Was Thursday

8. The Professor Explains
WHEN Gabriel Syme found himself finally established in a chair, and opposite to
him, fixed and final also, the lifted eyebrows and leaden eyelids of the Professor,
his fears fully returned. This incomprehensible man from the fierce council, after
all, had certainly pursued him. If the man had one character as a paralytic and
another character as a pursuer, the antithesis might make him more interesting,
but scarcely more soothing. It would be a very small comfort that he could not
find the Professor out, if by some serious accident the Professor should find him
out. He emptied a whole pewter pot of ale before the professor had touched his
One possibility, however, kept him hopeful and yet helpless. It was just possible
that this escapade signified something other than even a slight suspicion of him.
Perhaps it was some regular form or sign. Perhaps the foolish scamper was
some sort of friendly signal that he ought to have understood. Perhaps it was a
ritual. Perhaps the new Thursday was always chased along Cheapside, as the
new Lord Mayor is always escorted along it. He was just selecting a tentative
inquiry, when the old Professor opposite suddenly and simply cut him short.
Before Syme could ask the first diplomatic question, the old anarchist had asked
suddenly, without any sort of preparation--
"Are you a policeman?"
Whatever else Syme had expected, he had never expected anything so brutal
and actual as this. Even his great presence of mind could only manage a reply
with an air of rather blundering jocularity.
"A policeman?" he said, laughing vaguely. "Whatever made you think of a
policeman in connection with me?"
"The process was simple enough," answered the Professor patiently. "I thought
you looked like a policeman. I think so now."
"Did I take a policeman's hat by mistake out of the restaurant?" asked Syme,
smiling wildly. "Have I by any chance got a number stuck on to me somewhere?
Have my boots got that watchful look? Why must I be a policeman? Do, do let
me be a postman."
The old Professor shook his head with a gravity that gave no hope, but Syme ran
on with a feverish irony.
"But perhaps I misunderstood the delicacies of your German philosophy.
Perhaps policeman is a relative term. In an evolutionary sense, sir, the ape fades