A strange incident at Oxford Circus

At Oxford Circus I saw an English gentleman of perhaps 70 looking quite bewildered. Impeccably dressed in a tailored grey suit and pink shirt, and clutching a brown suede case, I imagined he'd walked up from a club in St James, or one of the auction houses in Mayfair. What appeared to be yellow paint was dripping down his back.

I went over to him. "Someone's just hit me from up there" he said, motioning to a balcony window a few floors above Benetton. It had splashed on the floor, too.

"Well, let's find out who's in there. They ought to buy you a new suit."
"They'll find it rather expensive. This suit cost over a thousand pounds" he said.
"Would you like me to act as a witness?"
"That would be very kind".

His shaking hands reached for his notebook, and I wrote down my address, or at least my parent's address.

When I saw one of the purple-shirted Regent Street information officers I stopped him and explained the situation. He went inside the building and came back to tell us that the room up there was the Benetton staff canteen. It had been hotdog mustard rather than paint that someone had squirted out of the window.

Two passers-by had stopped and were using tissues to dab down the gentleman's jacket. One of them took the jacket from the man's somewhat reluctant shoulders. When done, he handed the jacket back and disappeared into the crowd.

"My envelope. He's taken my envelope", the gentleman said.
"What was in it?"
"A very substantial amount of money."
"Oh - how could he have known that?"
"Well, he'll find out."

His manner remained dignified and composed. I wondered how much he meant by a substantial sum. Enough to buy a new suit? Was the thief a passing opportunist, or had the mustard-thrower been a spotter who created a distraction?

I stood around uselessly for a few more minutes, offering my commiserations, and the man expressed his gratitude, looking where I'd written my name and repeating it out loud. But I'd failed at the most important moment in the few minutes I'd been his keeper. I'm thinking he's not now going to ask me to be his private secretary.