It was Saturday afternoon and surprisingly warm and sunny for the time of the year. Arthur had been in his study, writing letters to people whose support he needed for the charity he was setting up, and working through legal details. The details had become so detailed, that he had decided he should leave it to somehow else, and he had gone out to get some fresh air instead. He could have walked in the grounds of the estate, just outside of Whitby, but he enjoyed going to a public park and watching the common people have picknicks or play games on their free Saturday afternoon. They looked so peaceful and were probably quite unaware of all the labor he and his colleagues put into keeping their world safe and comfortable and orderly. He appreciated the simplicity of these people. He didn’t mind mingling with them. At a safe distance.
 
As a matter of fact, Arthur did stand out with his immaculate attire: his waistcoat, trousers, long coat and tie a deep, unfaded black and perfectly fitted; shoes neatly polished; a black and silver cane in his hand; and a black top hat which looked brand new to finish the look. Everything about him breathed aristocracy, and the street urchins nearby soon picked up the scent, for they ran over to him and started begging for some pennies. Arthur shooed them away. He believed in charity, but only when it was well organized. These boys would only take the money home so their parents could go and drink. The children walked away sulking, when after a few refusals, they realized that the gentleman wouldn’t give in. Arthur turned his attention to a group of men in the open field playing a game of cricket and he watched the game, leaning on his cane.