Why are you following me?

A nervous man who lived in one of the suburbs of London was on his way home from the railway station.
The road was dark and lonely. He heard footsteps behind him and had an uncomfortable feeling that he was being followed. He increased his speed. Tho footsteps quickened accordingly.

The man became frightened and darted down a lane. The footsteps still pursued him. In desperation he vaulted over a fence and, rushing into a churchyard threw himself panting on one of the graves.

"If he follows me here," he thought fearfully, "there can be no doubt as to his intentions."
That one behind was following, he was already scrambling over the fence. Visions of highwaymen, maniacs and the like flashed through the frightened man's brain. Quivering with fear he arose and faced his pursuer.

"What do you w-w-want?" he demanded, "wh-wh-why are you following me?"

"I say," asked the stranger, mopping his brow, "do you always go home like this? Or are you giving yourself a special treat to-night? I'm going up to Mr. Brown's, and the man at the station told me to follow you, as you lived next door. Excuse my asking you, but is there much more to do before we get there?"