IIITempleton's road yacht had been for a week or two a fairly familiar object in the neighbourhood, and the few country folk on foot whom it met or passed in the first few minutes of its voyage graced it with no more attention than was evinced by a stolid stare, a shake of the head, and a sort of prolonged sigh. A spectator of quicker mind—and he would need to have been quick, for the pace was already great—might have taken a fugitive interest in noting the facial expressions of the vehicle's three occupants. Templeton looked earnest and responsible: Eves wore only the shadow of his usual smile, for he was oppressed by an anxious doubt whether his former experiences of yachting would serve him in handling the sail of this novel craft. The wind was not only strong but gusty, and at slight turns in the road the boom showed a tendency to swing out of his control and commit assault and battery on the person of his passenger. That gentleman, however, was evidently on the top of enjoyment. Whatever his errand was, it was driven from his mind by sheer exhilaration. He lived wholly in the present. Peering over Templeton's shoulder at the speedometer, he reported with boyish excitement the movements of the indicator—twenty, twenty-five, thirty: "Believe you me, it's thirty miles; the like of that, now!"Approaching a sharp bend in the road, Templeton gradually throttled down until the speed was reduced to fifteen; and when, as the yacht rounded the bend, the change of course caused the boom to swing over and knock the Irishman's hat off, the genial stranger shouted with glee and declared that he was having the time of his life, begor.Eves hauled in the mainsheet; the pace again rose to twenty-five; and a marked down-grade enabled Templeton to maintain that speed for a time with the engine switched off. At the end of the dip, where the road bent again, Templeton was faced by the first up-grade—a long straight stretch almost in the teeth of the wind. Some little distance from the foot of the incline he switched on his engine, and took the ascent for the most part on top, dropping to first about two hundred yards from the summit. At this point the passenger, looking back along the road, exclaimed:"There's a car in the wake of us.""Overhauling us?" asked Eves."She's not, then. How would the likes of her?""She will, though. We shall have to slow down. Look ahead."A heavy farm wagon drawn by three horses had appeared over the crest of the hill, and was lumbering down with skidpans adjusted, and occupying three-fourths of the roadway."It's the way we'd see a collision," said the Irishman, chortling. The prospect had evidently no terrors for him. Eves, on the other hand, for all his delight in a rag, felt by no means easy in mind."Slow down, Bob," he cried, anxiously, at the same time hauling in the sheet until the sail stood almost parallel with the side of the vehicle.Templeton made no reply; but knowing from experience that the road yacht was a likely source of anxiety to horses he slowed down, at the imminent risk of stopping entirely, and steered well into the hedge. The carter hurried to the leader's head and pulled in to his side of the road, giving only a gaping stare as the yacht grazed the off wheels of his wagon and the hedge on the other side."As good a bit of steering as ever I saw," cried the Irishman. "Did you get a whiff of the mangolds?""I was expecting to be mangled," said Eves, grimly. "I say, Bob, the wind's dead ahead, and the sail's no bally good.""Lower it, man, lower it," said Templeton. "We'll be all right at the next turn."The yacht was crawling painfully to the top of the hill when there came from behind the sound of a hooter. Eves and the Irishman looked back. A large car had just rounded the bend below, and was mounting the hill with a great roaring and rattling, distinctly audible above the noise of their own straining engine."By George, Bob," cried Eves, "that green car that called at the garage is upon our heels.""I hear it," said Templeton. "Couldn't mistake it: I'll give it room to pass."Before the yacht had gamed the top of the hill the following car, hooting continuously, closed with it and dashed past."I say, Bob," shouted Eves, "did you see who was in it?""No. Didn't look. Who is it?""Rabbit-skin and Noakes.""Our Noakes?""Philemon, as sure as a gun.""Our worthy mayor, evidently. Rummy!""What was that you said?" asked Eves, turning to the Irishman, who had uttered a sharp exclamation as the car ran by."It was what I don't care to repeat. The fellow you do be calling Rabbit-skin has the rise got on me, and indeed I'm sorry I put you to the trouble and all.""Noakes, you mean?""I do not. Noakes is unbeknown to me. But by the look of it that car will get to the camp by twelve o'clock, and we will not, and then Saunders, him with the fur collar, will be the way of slipping in his tender and I'll be left on the doorstep."A light flashed on Eves."You're tendering for the camp waste?" he asked, quickly."I was. It was told me Saunders——""All right," Eves interrupted. Leaning over Templeton's shoulder he said: "I say, Bob, it's up to you, old man. You remember that telephone call. Noakes and Rabbit-skin are in co. Tendering for the camp waste, you know. He mustn't get in first with a higher tender. Can you hustle a bit?""I daren't accelerate till we get to the top: daren't waste petrol. But then——"The yacht panted slowly up the last few yards of the hill. When it reached the top, the green car, enveloped in a cloud of smoke, was already some three hundred yards ahead, racing along a straight level stretch of road. It was clear that Saunders had recognised a business rival in the Irishman, and was urging his car to its utmost speed.At the summit a bend in the road had once more brought the wind on the beam. Eves instantly hoisted the sail, and the yacht in a few moments gathered way. The road here ran through an open down; there were no hedges to blanket the yacht; and on the high ground the wind blew with the force of half a gale. Giving signs of the liveliest excitement, the Irishman, his hair flying in the wind, bent over the back of Templeton's seat, and every few seconds shouted the indications of the speedometer, his voice growing louder as the figures mounted up. "Ten—fourteen—eighteen—twenty"—he followed the pointer round the dial, and when it quivered on 33 he swung his arm round, uttering a wild "Hurroosh!" and was not a whit abashed when Templeton half turned a rebuking face towards him and warned him of the risk of plunging overboard.There was, in truth, much reason for the man's ebullient spirits. The engine was switched off: there was little or no vibration; the yacht, as he afterwards declared, seemed to float along the road. Even when she had a decided list to starboard, the near wheels leaving the ground, he laughed as he threw his long body to windward, hanging perilously over the roadway, while Eves with mouth grim-set kept the bounding craft on a broad reach. It was soon apparent that she was more than holding her own with the long car ahead. The cloud of smoke came nearer and nearer, floating across the road to leeward like the trail from the funnel of a tramp steamer.The green car was running an erratic course more or less in the middle of the road. Within thirty or forty yards of her Templeton insistently sounded his horn and drew over to the right, preparing to pass. Next moment he jammed on his brake hard, with an exclamation seldom heard on his phlegmatic lips. So far from steering to his own side of the road, the driver of the car had also pulled across to the right, with the evident intention of blocking the passage. But for Templeton's promptitude the bowsprit must inevitably have run into the hood of the car. The jerk threw the Irishman heavily forward over the back of the seat, and when he recovered himself he broke into violent objurgation, which had no more effect on the occupants of the car than the strident blasts of Templeton's horn. They did not even look round. A turf-cutter on the moor scratched his head and gazed open-mouthed at the novel spectacle, and on the other side two affrighted ponies galloped with tossing manes and tails through and over the whins and gorse.For the moment Templeton was baffled. Then Eves, leaning forward, shouted, to be heard above the roaring of the car:"Pass her on the near side, Bob."Templeton nodded, reserving for the future his criticism that, in the circumstances, Eves might more properly have used a nautical term. He checked the pace still further until nearly fifty yards separated him from the obstructive car. Then, with his horn at full blast, he released the brake, and the yacht shot forward. As he had expected, the car clung still more closely to the off side, leaving only the narrowest margin between the wheels and the rough edge of the turf. Suddenly, with a turn of the wheel that caused the yacht to lurch giddily, he switched on the engine and ran deftly into the open space on the near side. A yell of delight broke from the Irishman."Sit down and be quiet," shouted Eves, "or we'll capsize yet."Noakes had risen in the car, and was bawling in the ear of the chauffeur. The yacht had drawn level with the car's wind screen before Templeton's manoeuvre was appreciated. Now, attempting to counter it, the chauffeur, under Noakes's vehement prompting, edged towards the left with the object of forcing the lighter-built yacht into the ditch which on this side parted the roadway from the moor. Perceiving the danger, Eves, with the capacity for rising to the occasion which had distinguished him in former enterprises with his friend, instantly eased the mainsheet: the boom swung out, and came into sharp contact, first with Noakes's head, then with the wind screen, which it shivered to fragments. The chauffeur, who had glanced round, ducked his head and in his flurry gave way for a moment. That moment was long enough. Eves hauled in the sheet, and the yacht, under the dual impulse of engine and wind, shot forward and in a few seconds was clear.[image]"THE BOOM SWUNG OUT, AND CAME INTO SHARP CONTACT, FIRST WITH NOAKES'S HEAD, THEN WITH THE WIND SCREEN.""Hurroosh!" yelled the Irishman, standing with difficulty erect in the swaying vehicle and looking back along the road. "Noakes, if that's the name of him, is after shaking his fist on us. I wouldn't say but he's cursing mighty fine, but sure I can't hear him for the noise of the creature. Saunders and the driver-man might be having a shindy by the looks of it. His head might be sore on him, and he'll not deserve it,—the man, I mean: I wouldn't be wasting a word of pity on Saunders if so be it was him."Meanwhile, Templeton, knowing that his petrol would barely last out, had slowed down."Tell me if they draw up with us," he called over his shoulder."I will, begor," said the Irishman. "She's after doing that same now, and smoking like a tug on the Liffey.""He's driving her hard," added Eves."That's all right," said Templeton. "It's my turn now."A bend in the road brought the wind only a few points on the port bow, and Templeton, sparing his petrol, allowed the yacht to lose way. The green car, hooting angrily, and leaving a huge trail of smoke, rattled on at a great pace, and moment by moment lessened the distance between it and the yacht. But Eves and Templeton between them, by their dexterous handling of steering wheel and sail, succeeded where the others had failed. The road was effectively blocked; short of running the yacht down, with the risk of heavy casualties on both sides, as Eves remarked, Noakes and his friend had no means of preventing their Irish competitor from maintaining his lead and coming first to the winning post.For a full mile the yacht zigzagged from one side of the road to the other. Eves handled the sheet very smartly, but soon found it hopeless to attempt to cope at once with the gustiness of the wind and the sudden swerves of the yacht, and finally contented himself with letting the boom swing freely within a narrow circle, fearing every moment that a lurch would capsize them all. Another turn in the road again gave them the wind; the yacht darted forward on a straight course, and the Irishman reported in high glee that the green car, grunting like Patsy O'Halloran's pig and snorting like Mike Grady's bull, was dropping behind as fast as she could run."What's the time?" Templeton called suddenly over his shoulder."Nine minutes to the hour," replied the Irishman, consulting his watch. "Will we do it?"Now that the exciting part of the race was apparently over, he had become alive to business. Twelve o'clock was the hour named for the lodging of tenders with the camp commandant; "and with the likes of the Army," he said, "you might be done if so be you was half a wink late. It's not that I've a word to say in favour of any matter of punctuality in the Army; but they're the way of making a mighty fuss over trifles. It was told me the name they put to it is red tape.""We'll do it," said Templeton, "provided, first, the petrol lasts out the hill ahead; second, there aren't any lorries in the way. But in any case we must run it fine, you know. You don't want Noakes or Saunders to get in at all, I take it.""Sorra a bit.""Would they tender higher than you?" asked Eves."They might.""What a pity we didn't give Noakes that message, Bob. Some one at the camp wanted to give him the tip to cut his tender; there was no other to hand.""The like of that, now, and me having the name of an honest man! Will I have time enough to write a word or two with the stump of a pencil? I have my tender in my pocket folded.""Better let it alone; we'll keep Noakes off. He's still rattling along, Bob; do we get the wind up the hill?""I'm afraid not. The road takes an awkward turn; just ahead there, you see. We'll have to rely on the petrol, and trust to luck."The yacht rounded the turn, and the hill came in view—a short sharp spur about a quarter-mile in length. In a trice they dowsed the sails. Templeton switched on the engine, intending to rush the incline. Looking behind somewhat anxiously now, the Irishman declared that the green car was barging on like a mad steam engine. Roaring like a furnace, it seemed to leap over the ground, overhauling the yacht yard by yard until it was three-parts up the hill. Then the clamour suddenly ceased."Begor, she's stopped," cried the Irishman, exultantly."Big ends dropped off," said Templeton, grinning at Eves over his shoulder. "I gave him fair warning."The yacht topped the crest. On the moor to the left a vast assemblage of huts and tents broke upon the view. By the roadside was parked a row of motor lorries. Here and there men were moving about. They stared and shouted to one another at the sight of the strange vehicle sailing towards them, or rather running now merrily on the last gill of petrol. Templeton narrowly escaped colliding with the nearest lorry, then slowed down and enquired the way to the commandant's office."You go in between them huts till you come to a swanky hut with a flag flying atop," replied the private addressed. "A rum turn-out, this here."Driving on to the moor, Templeton was checked by the sentry, to whom, however, the Irishman explained that he was Patrick O'Reilly, come to tender for the camp waste."Pass: you'd better tender for the lot of us: we're all waste here," said the sentry. "Perhaps if you offered to buy us up they'd demob.""I don't like that," said Templeton, gravely, as he drove on. "It's subversive of discipline.""Don't worry," said Eves with a smile. "He saluted all right. It's two minutes to twelve: we did jolly well, old man."Templeton drew up at the commandant's hut. O'Reilly sprang out, and after a brief colloquy with the sentry, who looked doubtfully at his bare head and touzled hair, was allowed to enter. In five minutes he returned, in animated converse with the colonel. That officer, acknowledging the punctilious salutes of Eves and Templeton, smiled at the smutty face of the latter, and remarked:"This is a queer contrivance of yours, my man. I thought Mr. O'Reilly was a lunatic when he told me he'd arrived in a yacht, without being sick, and himself a bad sailor——""I am that," put in O'Reilly, parenthetically. "I wouldn't like to say how much the Irish Sea is owing me.""But I see he's not so mad as I supposed," the colonel went on."Sure you'd be the better of a voyage in her yourself," said O'Reilly."Thank you. I think I prefer the real article. Not many of these machines in the market, are there?""None, sir," replied Eves, promptly. "It's the first, a brand-new invention of my friend Templeton here, second lieutenant in the Blankshire Rifles. He's a repatriated prisoner of war, employing his leave in working out ideas that germinated in captivity. That accounts for his being improperly dressed.""Indeed! Is this the Mr. Templeton who narrowly escaped gassing my old friend Colonel Beavis?""A pure accident, sir, due to the colonel's adventurous spirit and a loose screw. Templeton was very much cut up about it.""Dry up!" growled Templeton in a fierce undertone."Well, I congratulate Mr. O'Reilly," said the colonel, his eyes twinkling. "I gather that but for Mr. Templeton's road yacht he wouldn't have got here till after twelve, and he seemed a little hurt when I told him that a few minutes are neither here nor there. One must give a time limit, of course; but I shouldn't have turned down a good offer that happened to arrive a few minutes late. But what's this?"A crowd of privates, shouting vociferously, was approaching from the direction of the road. A few words were distinguishable in the babel. "This way, governor." "Two to one on the long un." And as the throng turned into the lane between the huts, among the khaki figures appeared Philemon Noakes and his fur-coated companion, trotting along in feverish haste. The soldiers fell back as they neared the commandant's hut, and the two civilians advanced alone."Are you the colonel?" asked Noakes, panting."I am. You want to see me?""I'm the Mayor of Pudlington. This is my friend Ebenezer Saunders, who's come for to tender for the camp waste.""As per advertisement," added Saunders.There was something aggressive in each man's manner of speech. The colonel looked at his wrist watch."The time mentioned was twelve o'clock, gentlemen. It is now eight minutes past. You are eight minutes too late.""You won't draw the line so tight," said Noakes. "A few minutes are neither here nor there in a matter of this sort, and as the Mayor of Pudlington——"Excuse me, Mr. Mayor——""But it's all along o' this infernal machine," cried Noakes, angrily, throwing out his hand towards the road yacht. "It was on the wrong side o' the road, and we couldn't pass it no-how; obstructing of the king's highway: that's what it was; and as the Mayor of Pudlington I'll have the law of them, that I will.""Oh, come, Mr. Noakes," said Eves, pleasantly. "You tried that once before, you know. You remember my friend Templeton, even if you've forgotten me. As a matter of fact, sir," he added, turning to the colonel, "they overdrove their car, and the big ends dropped off; otherwise—well, I shouldn't have been surprised if there'd been a bit of a scrap somewhere about the top of the hill.""There would," said O'Reilly, decisively. "And what's more, it was the car that blocked the road, and a mighty fine trouble we had, the way we'd circumvent the creature.""It's a scandal," cried Noakes."A regular low-down swindle," shouted the owner of the fur coat."That'll do, sir," said the colonel, sharply. "You'll be good enough to leave the camp—you and the Mayor of Pudlington."Noakes threw at Eves a venomous glance—a glance in which was concentrated inextinguishable resentment for the unmasking he had suffered two years before. He made his way with Saunders back to the road and disappeared."There's more in this than meets the eye," said the colonel, smiling. "Will you gentlemen come into my hut and tell me something more of the Mayor of Pudlington?""With pleasure, sir," replied Eves. "Come along, Bob.""Really, I must be getting back," said Templeton. "There's the garage, you know. Besides——" He looked over his dirty overalls and grimy hands."Well, you'll have to get some petrol; while you're doing that I'll relate what I know of the life history of Noakes. A splendid rag, old man," he added, as he turned to follow the colonel.THE COLD WATER CUREI"We'll get some lunch at my digs," said Templeton, as he started with Eves on the return journey. "I'll have time to show you one or two ideas of mine before I am due back at the garage.""Oh, I say, Bob, I'd made up my mind to stand you a topping lunch at some hotel or other. Lunch at digs!"Eves's look was eloquent. Templeton smiled gently."There's only one hotel, or rather inn," he said, "and there you can only get Government beer. It has only domestic rations. Besides, you don't know my landlady—she's a gem! She expects me, you know, and she'll have enough for two.""'A heart resigned, submissive, meek,'" Eves quoted. "Well, old sport, I'll try to bear up, and as I've a tremendous appetite after hospital slops, you know—just buck in, will you?"The road being mainly down-hill, and the petrol tank now full, Templeton had resolved to run back on engine power alone, and had furled the sails. Just below the crest of the hill they passed the green car, about which Noakes and his two companions were apparently engaged in a heated altercation. Noakes scowled fiercely as the road yacht dashed on."Rummy we should come across that old humbug!" said Eves. "Still rummier that he should be Mayor of Pudlington. I thought the mayoralty was the reward for long years of civic virtue. Old Noakes can't have been here more than a couple of years. How is it you didn't know he was mayor?""My dear man, I'm not interested in municipal affairs. Besides, I've only been here a few weeks, and with only two months' leave——""Just so. Like the busy bee, you must improve each shining hour. That bee must have been a frightful prig.""Come, now——""No offence, old bean! Of course he gathered loads of honey, and all that: a jolly useful life—adventurous, too—saw a lot of the world, don't you know: always on the move. That part would suit me to a T. We're both like the bee, you see: you in your industry, and what you may call stickiness; me in my roving propensity, my incurable levity, my passion for honeydew—in the form of cigarettes. I say, Bob, I think I'll write for the magazines. I don't see why my ideas shouldn't be worth something, as well as yours.""What ideas?""That's an unkind cut, after I've been spouting ideas galore. I'm afraid the mechanical mind will always be blind to the beauties of literature. 'A primrose by the river's brim'—Steady, old sport, you nearly capsized us!" Templeton had swung round suddenly into a by-lane. "I was quoting a sublime passage from one William Wordsworth.""Well, never mind him," said Templeton, drawing up in front of a solitary cottage. "Here we are! Go straight up the stairs—you'll find a clean towel. I'll tell Mrs. Pouncey you're here, and follow you."When the two friends entered the little sitting-room a few minutes later the landlady, a short, very stout, pleasant-faced woman of sixty or thereabouts, had just placed two steaming plates of soup on the table."My friend Mr. Eves, Mrs. Pouncey," said Templeton."How d'ye do, Mrs. Pouncey?" said Eves, shaking hands. "Mr. Templeton has been telling me you're the best cook in the three kingdoms. You know you did, Bob; don't protest. He's very hard to please, Mrs. Pouncey, very; and if he's satisfied, you may be sure that a man of my humbler tastes will be absolutely bowled over.""Well, now, I declare I wouldn't have thought it. Mr. Templeton have never said a single grumble, not one. He's the best young man lodger as I've ever had, that I will say—no trouble at all!""Ah, Mrs. Pouncey! how many young men lodgers have you said the same thing about? Your last lodger, for instance, now, confess!""'Deed no, sir. You be very far out. My last lodger was—there, I couldn't abide en, he was that cantankerous, and such language—I never did! I know a real gentleman when I see en, and he was nothing but a make-believe, for all his fur coat. Thankful I am he was only here a few days, and that to oblige the mayor.""Mr. Noakes?""Ay, sure, that be the mayor's name, and well I know it. But do 'ee take your soup, now, 'twill be cold, and cold soup lays heavy, not to speak o' the nastiness, and the pork chops grilled to a cinder."The good woman had toddled away while speaking, and her last words came faintly through the open door."Jolly good soup, Bob," said Eves. "And pork chops! Splendid! The old dame is a treasure. I'll get her to tell us about our worthy mayor."Mrs. Pouncey returned with two well-grilled pork chops and a dish of sprouts and baked potatoes."Absolutely topping, Mrs. Pouncey!" said Eves. "What on earth did your last lodger find to grumble at, if you treated him like this?""Lor' bless 'ee, sir, he'd grumble at everything, pertickler at the bill. He'd want a penny took off here, and a penny there: and he would measure out his tea hisself, and cut his own rashers. I never did see the like.""And a friend of the mayor, too!""Ay, and more'n a friend, so it do seem. 'Tis said here and there 'twas a gentleman—gentleman, says I, but that's the talk!—a gentleman from London as have Mr. Noakes in his pocket, so to speak it.""Really!""Ay. No wonder you be mazed, the mayor being such a terrible great man and all. Some folks do rise quick in the world, to be sure. 'Tis only a matter of two year since he came here, from no one knowed where, and 'a took up a big contrack with the camp for building huts, and running a canteen, I think they do call it, and I don't know what all. Ay sure, he've his fingers in many a pie, but I warrant they'll get burnt, they will!""But how did a stranger become mayor so quickly?""Why, being such a great man, they put him on the Council, and t'other councillors being little small men, he got over 'em, that's what I say. Bless 'ee, he'd have got 'em to make him king, if so be there was kings out of London. Ah, he've a power of money! He bought this cottage that I've paid rent for regular this twenty year, and he telled me he'd raise the rent as soon as Parlyment will let him, if not before. And he made me take this Saunders man for twenty shillings a week, when I've never had less than twenty-five, never!"Apple dumplings called Mrs. Pouncey from the room. When she returned with them, and Eves wanted to know how the apples got inside the crust, the dame gave a lengthy explanation which lasted till the conclusion of the meal."We've a few minutes," said Templeton then. "Come and see my road-sweeper."He led Eves to an old shed at the rear of the premises. On entering, Eves's eye was caught by a large formless mass of a substance somewhat resembling putty."Hullo!" he cried. "Been playing with plasticine?""That's another little idea of mine," replied Templeton. "A new fire extinguisher.""You had better form a company, old sport. 'Bright Ideas, Unlimited.' How's it work?""It's very simple. You let a shallow tank, about a quarter-inch deep, into the ceiling of a room. The bottom, flush with the plaster, is pierced with holes like a sieve, the holes are plugged with my composition, and you run water into the tank. If a fire occurs the heat melts the composition——""I see! Splendid! Down comes the rain and puts out the fire! But will the shower last long enough?""Really, I'm surprised at you, Tom! The fall from a tank like that will be equivalent to an average week's rainfall. But the point of the idea is the composition. I've tried other preparations without success, but this stuff of mine sets hard and yet melts easily. By varying the proportions of the ingredients you can get it to melt at different temperatures, but I haven't quite finished my experiments in that direction. The difficulty is to gauge the exact temperature required, but I'll manage it before long.""It hasn't been tried yet in a building, then?""Not exactly; but a decent local builder was rather taken with it when I showed it to him, and he's giving it a trial at the new Literary Institute he's putting up. The building was stopped by the war, but he has already started work again, and he's willing to test the idea before the plasterers finish. He has rigged up a sort of tray on the laths in the roof of the big room, and one of these days is going to put a brazier underneath. You see, if the stuff melts too easily, it will only mean a slop on the floor, and won't do any damage.""I see. What are you going to call the stuff?""Time enough for that when I've perfected the invention and sent in for my patent. Here's my road-sweeper."He pointed to a somewhat rusty vehicle standing against one of the walls."I'm only waiting for a supply of petrol to try it," he added. "The old engine uses up a frightful lot. But our allowance is due in to-morrow. I say, can you stay a day or two? Mrs. Pouncey can put you up.""Rather! I've got ten days' leave.""That's all right, then. Now we had better get back to the garage. Wilkins will be in a bait if it's not open sharp at two."IIAs Templeton drew up in front of the garage, a bill-sticker was posting a bill on one of the side posts of the gate. The heading, hi large type, caught Eves's eye, and when he got down to open the gate, he stayed to read the announcement while Templeton drove through."I say, Bob, there'll be a splendid rag to-morrow," he said on rejoining his friend. "There's a meeting of parliamentary electors at the new Literary Institute—a final kick before the election on Saturday. Old Noakes is in the chair: he's a pacifist, you remember, and the bill gives short notice that the meeting will be addressed by——" (He mentioned the name of a notorious agitator.) "We'll go. Ask a few questions, perhaps.""Soldiers in uniform are forbidden to——""Rats! That's all gone by the board. The soldier's a citizen now-a-days.... I say, is this Wilkins?""My employer," replied Templeton.A thick-set man wearing a long coat and a motor cap was coming up the path."Well, any business a-doing?" he asked of Templeton."There have been two callers: one was a man who'd over-driven his machine and run short of oil. He was in a tearing hurry, and distinctly offensive. I did what I could for him, and warned him he'd lose his big ends if he wasn't careful. Here's the half-crown he paid me.""Half-a-crown! No more than that?""Well, he paid what I asked.""Rot it all! You didn't ask enough. A feller in a hurry, and likewise rude, ought to be made to pay. Look 'ee here, Mr. Templeton, you're a young feller, and have got a thing or two to learn: you'd best get a notion of charging if you're to be of any use to me.""What about that, then?" asked Templeton, handing him a couple of pound notes."Ah, now, that's better, to be sure! How did 'ee get 'em?" asked Wilkins, pocketing the notes with a pleased smile."An Irishman wanted to get to the camp in a hurry. He happened to be polite, so I drove him up in my road yacht. As a matter of fact, we passed the other fellow in his car: he had picked up your mayor, and I gathered he was a business rival of the Irishman. I wasn't sorry we beat him; his big ends dropped off, as I warned him."Eves noticed that Wilkins's face grew more and more glum as Templeton was speaking, and remembered the telephone call he had answered."The Irishman was so pleased that he offered me five pounds," Templeton went on, "but I thought two pounds was a fair charge.""Then dang me if you ain't done me out of three pounds!" cried the man, irritably. "Did any one ever hear the likes of refusing good money when 'twas offered free? Done me out of three pounds—threepounds, look 'ee, as ought to have been in my pocket! Done me out of it, you have!"Eves felt that this outburst was not wholly due to Templeton's moderation in charging."Well, Mr. Wilkins," said Templeton, quietly, "I'm sorry you're not satisfied. Perhaps we had better part.""I don't say that," said Wilkins, calming himself with an effort. "You're a gentleman, that's where 'tis, and not bred up to understand business. I'll say no more—let it bide—but another time don't 'ee go and refuse good money; that's business. Well, I'm off up along to the town; know where I can get some petrol on the quiet; that's business too. I'll be back afore long.""You keep queer company, old man!" said Eves, when Wilkins was out of ear-shot."He's trying at times, I confess—a rough diamond," said Templeton. "But I think he's sound.""I wonder! Somebody wanted him to give Noakes a tip, you remember. He must be very well in with Noakes, and that's suspicious in itself. His face was as long as a fiddle when you told him O'Reilly got in ahead of Noakes.""Well, I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. Now, I've got to make a new crank pin for a motor cycle that was brought in for repair this morning. It'll take me some time, and I don't want to keep you hanging about. Why not go into the town and have a look round?""Righto. What time do you knock off?""Five.""I'll call for you, then. So long!"At half-past four, when Eves returned, the workshop was lighted by the two oil lamps which were its only illumination. Templeton had just finished his work, and was washing his hands at the sink."I've spent a profitable afternoon," said Eves, returning to his seat on the bench. "Don't think much of Pudlington, but an enquiring mind like mine can pick up pearls anywhere. I was strolling along when I came to an uncommonly ugly unfinished building, with 'Literary Institute' carved over the door. Some fellows were unloading chairs from a cart, and carrying them in. I went in too, and found your respectable friend the local builder there, superintending the fitting of some gas-burners. 'Getting ready for the meeting to-morrow?' I said to him. 'Ay, sure, sir,' said he. 'Town Hall's occypied by Food Controller and Fuel Controller, and I don't know what all, so the meeting's to be held here, though unfinished.' 'Rather a cold place,' I said. 'Bless 'ee, we'll hot 'em up to-morrow,' said he. 'The walls will sweat like you never see. We've got a proper fine furnace down underneath, and the only pity is I haven't got the ceiling plastered; 'twould have dried a bit.' Whereupon I mentioned your proposed experiment with your fire extinguisher, and the old boy became cordial at once when I told him you were a friend of mine. You've evidently impressed him, Bob."Templeton grunted."It's quite true. To be a friend of yours lifts one a good many notches. 'That young gemman do have a terrible powerful piece of intelleck inside of his brain-pan,' says your builder. 'Ay, and what's more, he's a rare earnest soul, always inventing things for the good of his day and generation. He's a credit to the nation, that he be!' Of course I congratulated him and Pudlington on the temporary possession of so bright an ornament, and we had quite a friendly talk. He seemed rather doubtful whether it's legal to hold a public meeting in a building before it has been passed by the surveyor, but Noakes is above the law, or thinks he is. We'll go to-morrow, Bob: it'll be a good rag.""I'm not sure that I want to go to the meeting," said Templeton."Oh, you must! I want to see Noakes's face when he spies us in the audience. By the way, I think he must be rather thick with your Wilkins. Not many minutes after I'd left the Institute I met the green car being towed along by two great farm horses. Noakes and Saunders were walking alongside. Noakes gave me his usual scowl as he passed, which I countered with my usual grin. Presently I walked round to the market-place, and there was Noakes again, in close confab with Wilkins. When they saw me they both began to talk at once, and it seemed to me that each was telling the other that he had the honour of my acquaintance. At any rate they both looked rather surprised and a good deal more than interested, and their heads were very close together when I saw them last.""I'm sick of Noakes," said Templeton, somewhat irritably."What's the matter? Has he been here?""No, but half an hour after you left, Wilkins came back with a can of petrol, and offered it to me for my experiments in a way that was positively fawning.""To make amends for his roughness before.""I don't like that sort of thing. It's too much Noakes's way, and what you say throws light on it. If he and Noakes are pals—well, when I wangle, even if it's petrol, I like to do it in decent company. I disliked Wilkins's manner so much that I declined the petrol: told him I'd wait for the regular supply. The odd thing is that Noakes has not been here at the shop in my time.""Rather lucky for you, for if he'd found you here, he would have told Wilkins you're a dangerous character, and got you fired out. He may do that yet.""Well, let's get along home. Mrs. Pouncey will have high tea ready, and I'm ravenous."After their meal, which was tea and supper combined, they smoked for an hour in the sitting-room. Then Templeton jumped up."Botheration!" he exclaimed. "I was going to work on my turbine specification, but I've left it in a drawer at the shop. I shall have to pull on my boots again and fetch it.""Can't it wait? It's a horrid night.""I really can't waste a whole evening. My time's getting short, and I've lots still to do.""Well, I'll come along with you. After supper walk a mile, you know. It's about a mile there and back, I suppose."The night was damp and murky. The country lane was unlit, and they found their way by intermittent flashes of Templeton's electric torch. There was no dwelling between Mrs. Pouncey's cottage and the garage, and at this hour, half-past eight on a winter night, they were not likely to meet either pedestrians or vehicles. So much the greater, therefore, was Templeton's surprise, when, on approaching the spot where the garage and workshop stood, he saw a dim light through the window of the latter."Wilkins went off at half-past three, and said he wouldn't be back to-night," said Templeton. "I suppose he changed his mind."To reach the door they had to pass the window. It was only natural that Eves, who was on the inside, should glance in. Catching Templeton by the arm, he drew him back out of the rays of the lamp-light, whispering:"There's some one stooping at a drawer, trying a key, apparently. Couldn't see his face, the light's too dim.""It's Wilkins, I expect. No one else has any right here," replied Templeton. "I'll take a look."Peeping round the frame of the window, through the dirty pane, he was able to distinguish nothing but a man's form at the further end of the shop. The lamp, hanging from the middle of the roof, was turned very low, and the bent attitude of the man, with his back three-parts towards the window, rendered it impossible to discern his features. He was covered with a long waterproof, and a storm cap was pulled low over his head. From his movements it was clear that he was trying one key after another."It's not Wilkins," whispered Templeton. "I never saw him dressed like that.""Then it's a burglar," replied Eves. "Nab him!"They moved on tip-toe to the door. Templeton grasped the handle, murmuring:"I'll turn it suddenly—then make a dash!"There was absolute quiet all around, and the sound of jingling keys came faintly through the door. After a few moments' pause Templeton turned the handle noiselessly, and pushed the door open. The damp weather had, however, swollen the timber, and the slight sound it made as it strained against the door-post attracted the attention of the man beyond. Still stooping over the drawer, he turned his head sharply."My hat! Noakes!" muttered Eves.Springing into the shop past Templeton, who had halted on recognising Noakes, as if to consider matters, Eves dashed at the waterproofed figure. The moment's warning had enabled Noakes to prepare for attack. He projected a bony shoulder, prevented Eves from getting the clutch he intended, and made a rush towards the door."Collar him, Bob!" cried Eves.During the next minute there was a rough-and-tumble in which Noakes's legs played as free a part as was possible to a man encased in a long waterproof. He displayed astounding agility in evading close action, and it was not until Eves caught him by the heel as he kicked out that he was brought to the ground. "I'll sit on him," said Eves. "Ring up the police station, Bob, and ask them to send a constable to arrest a burglar.""But are you sure—" Templeton began."Don't argue," said Eves. "He's a desperate character; I can hardly hold him."Templeton went to the telephone, lifted the receiver, then turned again towards Eves."Don't you think, as it's Mr. Noakes——" he said."Mr. Noakes! The Mayor of Pudlington?" interrupted Eves. "Picking locks! Nonsense! Ring up at once, Bob, and then come and help: the ruffian will be too much for me, just out of hospital."Templeton gave the message."They'll send a man at once. He'll be here in about ten minutes," he reported. "Are you sure it isn't Mr. Noakes? I could have sworn I recognised him.""So I am—so I am," panted the prisoner, who had hitherto struggled in silence. "What the Turk do 'ee mean by assaulting me—murderous assault—Mayor of Pudlington?""Now, now, don't be rash!" said Eves. "You won't make matters any better by pretending to be our worthy mayor. He won't like that, you know, when you're brought into court to-morrow. I shall have to give evidence, and when I tell him that the fellow caught rifling a drawer took his name in vain——""But I be the mayor—Philemon Noakes; and I'll send you to jail for assault and battery, without the option of a fine. Let me go! I'm the mayor, I tell 'ee!""I really think he's telling the truth," said Templeton.Just then Noakes, kicking out, dealt Templeton a heavy blow on the ankle."You had better lie still, whoever you are!" said the latter, warmly. "Violence won't help you!""Of course not—only makes things ten times worse!" said Eves. "Catch his legs, Bob; if he isn't quiet we'll have to truss him up. I never came across such an impudent scoundrel. Here's a burglar, caught in the act, claiming to be the chief magistrate! That beats everything! How's it possible? I say, Bob, there'll be a queer scene in court to-morrow. Suppose it were true, I can't for the life of me see how the mayor on the bench and the criminal in the dock are going to arrange matters. Will he hop from one to the other, and finally sentence himself? That's a Jekyll and Hyde problem I can't solve. But here's somebody coming—the bobby, I expect."Through the half-open door came a policeman, with handcuffs hanging from his wrists."Here he is, constable!" said Eves. "He's been struggling, but I dare say he'll go quietly.""Now then, there," said the constable, "get up and come along quiet. We've been looking for you a month past. Who gives him in charge?""I do," said Eves, "though I suppose Mr. Templeton ought to do it. You know Mr. Templeton, constable? Temporary assistant to Mr. Wilkins.""Ay, sure, I've seed the gentleman." Noakes had now risen, and stood before the constable, Eves on one side, Templeton on the other. His face, hitherto in shade, had come within the rays of the dim lamp."Daze me!" said the constable, after a hard stare. "Surely—ay, 'tis the mayor, with the beginning of a black eye!"
III
Templeton's road yacht had been for a week or two a fairly familiar object in the neighbourhood, and the few country folk on foot whom it met or passed in the first few minutes of its voyage graced it with no more attention than was evinced by a stolid stare, a shake of the head, and a sort of prolonged sigh. A spectator of quicker mind—and he would need to have been quick, for the pace was already great—might have taken a fugitive interest in noting the facial expressions of the vehicle's three occupants. Templeton looked earnest and responsible: Eves wore only the shadow of his usual smile, for he was oppressed by an anxious doubt whether his former experiences of yachting would serve him in handling the sail of this novel craft. The wind was not only strong but gusty, and at slight turns in the road the boom showed a tendency to swing out of his control and commit assault and battery on the person of his passenger. That gentleman, however, was evidently on the top of enjoyment. Whatever his errand was, it was driven from his mind by sheer exhilaration. He lived wholly in the present. Peering over Templeton's shoulder at the speedometer, he reported with boyish excitement the movements of the indicator—twenty, twenty-five, thirty: "Believe you me, it's thirty miles; the like of that, now!"
Approaching a sharp bend in the road, Templeton gradually throttled down until the speed was reduced to fifteen; and when, as the yacht rounded the bend, the change of course caused the boom to swing over and knock the Irishman's hat off, the genial stranger shouted with glee and declared that he was having the time of his life, begor.
Eves hauled in the mainsheet; the pace again rose to twenty-five; and a marked down-grade enabled Templeton to maintain that speed for a time with the engine switched off. At the end of the dip, where the road bent again, Templeton was faced by the first up-grade—a long straight stretch almost in the teeth of the wind. Some little distance from the foot of the incline he switched on his engine, and took the ascent for the most part on top, dropping to first about two hundred yards from the summit. At this point the passenger, looking back along the road, exclaimed:
"There's a car in the wake of us."
"Overhauling us?" asked Eves.
"She's not, then. How would the likes of her?"
"She will, though. We shall have to slow down. Look ahead."
A heavy farm wagon drawn by three horses had appeared over the crest of the hill, and was lumbering down with skidpans adjusted, and occupying three-fourths of the roadway.
"It's the way we'd see a collision," said the Irishman, chortling. The prospect had evidently no terrors for him. Eves, on the other hand, for all his delight in a rag, felt by no means easy in mind.
"Slow down, Bob," he cried, anxiously, at the same time hauling in the sheet until the sail stood almost parallel with the side of the vehicle.
Templeton made no reply; but knowing from experience that the road yacht was a likely source of anxiety to horses he slowed down, at the imminent risk of stopping entirely, and steered well into the hedge. The carter hurried to the leader's head and pulled in to his side of the road, giving only a gaping stare as the yacht grazed the off wheels of his wagon and the hedge on the other side.
"As good a bit of steering as ever I saw," cried the Irishman. "Did you get a whiff of the mangolds?"
"I was expecting to be mangled," said Eves, grimly. "I say, Bob, the wind's dead ahead, and the sail's no bally good."
"Lower it, man, lower it," said Templeton. "We'll be all right at the next turn."
The yacht was crawling painfully to the top of the hill when there came from behind the sound of a hooter. Eves and the Irishman looked back. A large car had just rounded the bend below, and was mounting the hill with a great roaring and rattling, distinctly audible above the noise of their own straining engine.
"By George, Bob," cried Eves, "that green car that called at the garage is upon our heels."
"I hear it," said Templeton. "Couldn't mistake it: I'll give it room to pass."
Before the yacht had gamed the top of the hill the following car, hooting continuously, closed with it and dashed past.
"I say, Bob," shouted Eves, "did you see who was in it?"
"No. Didn't look. Who is it?"
"Rabbit-skin and Noakes."
"Our Noakes?"
"Philemon, as sure as a gun."
"Our worthy mayor, evidently. Rummy!"
"What was that you said?" asked Eves, turning to the Irishman, who had uttered a sharp exclamation as the car ran by.
"It was what I don't care to repeat. The fellow you do be calling Rabbit-skin has the rise got on me, and indeed I'm sorry I put you to the trouble and all."
"Noakes, you mean?"
"I do not. Noakes is unbeknown to me. But by the look of it that car will get to the camp by twelve o'clock, and we will not, and then Saunders, him with the fur collar, will be the way of slipping in his tender and I'll be left on the doorstep."
A light flashed on Eves.
"You're tendering for the camp waste?" he asked, quickly.
"I was. It was told me Saunders——"
"All right," Eves interrupted. Leaning over Templeton's shoulder he said: "I say, Bob, it's up to you, old man. You remember that telephone call. Noakes and Rabbit-skin are in co. Tendering for the camp waste, you know. He mustn't get in first with a higher tender. Can you hustle a bit?"
"I daren't accelerate till we get to the top: daren't waste petrol. But then——"
The yacht panted slowly up the last few yards of the hill. When it reached the top, the green car, enveloped in a cloud of smoke, was already some three hundred yards ahead, racing along a straight level stretch of road. It was clear that Saunders had recognised a business rival in the Irishman, and was urging his car to its utmost speed.
At the summit a bend in the road had once more brought the wind on the beam. Eves instantly hoisted the sail, and the yacht in a few moments gathered way. The road here ran through an open down; there were no hedges to blanket the yacht; and on the high ground the wind blew with the force of half a gale. Giving signs of the liveliest excitement, the Irishman, his hair flying in the wind, bent over the back of Templeton's seat, and every few seconds shouted the indications of the speedometer, his voice growing louder as the figures mounted up. "Ten—fourteen—eighteen—twenty"—he followed the pointer round the dial, and when it quivered on 33 he swung his arm round, uttering a wild "Hurroosh!" and was not a whit abashed when Templeton half turned a rebuking face towards him and warned him of the risk of plunging overboard.
There was, in truth, much reason for the man's ebullient spirits. The engine was switched off: there was little or no vibration; the yacht, as he afterwards declared, seemed to float along the road. Even when she had a decided list to starboard, the near wheels leaving the ground, he laughed as he threw his long body to windward, hanging perilously over the roadway, while Eves with mouth grim-set kept the bounding craft on a broad reach. It was soon apparent that she was more than holding her own with the long car ahead. The cloud of smoke came nearer and nearer, floating across the road to leeward like the trail from the funnel of a tramp steamer.
The green car was running an erratic course more or less in the middle of the road. Within thirty or forty yards of her Templeton insistently sounded his horn and drew over to the right, preparing to pass. Next moment he jammed on his brake hard, with an exclamation seldom heard on his phlegmatic lips. So far from steering to his own side of the road, the driver of the car had also pulled across to the right, with the evident intention of blocking the passage. But for Templeton's promptitude the bowsprit must inevitably have run into the hood of the car. The jerk threw the Irishman heavily forward over the back of the seat, and when he recovered himself he broke into violent objurgation, which had no more effect on the occupants of the car than the strident blasts of Templeton's horn. They did not even look round. A turf-cutter on the moor scratched his head and gazed open-mouthed at the novel spectacle, and on the other side two affrighted ponies galloped with tossing manes and tails through and over the whins and gorse.
For the moment Templeton was baffled. Then Eves, leaning forward, shouted, to be heard above the roaring of the car:
"Pass her on the near side, Bob."
Templeton nodded, reserving for the future his criticism that, in the circumstances, Eves might more properly have used a nautical term. He checked the pace still further until nearly fifty yards separated him from the obstructive car. Then, with his horn at full blast, he released the brake, and the yacht shot forward. As he had expected, the car clung still more closely to the off side, leaving only the narrowest margin between the wheels and the rough edge of the turf. Suddenly, with a turn of the wheel that caused the yacht to lurch giddily, he switched on the engine and ran deftly into the open space on the near side. A yell of delight broke from the Irishman.
"Sit down and be quiet," shouted Eves, "or we'll capsize yet."
Noakes had risen in the car, and was bawling in the ear of the chauffeur. The yacht had drawn level with the car's wind screen before Templeton's manoeuvre was appreciated. Now, attempting to counter it, the chauffeur, under Noakes's vehement prompting, edged towards the left with the object of forcing the lighter-built yacht into the ditch which on this side parted the roadway from the moor. Perceiving the danger, Eves, with the capacity for rising to the occasion which had distinguished him in former enterprises with his friend, instantly eased the mainsheet: the boom swung out, and came into sharp contact, first with Noakes's head, then with the wind screen, which it shivered to fragments. The chauffeur, who had glanced round, ducked his head and in his flurry gave way for a moment. That moment was long enough. Eves hauled in the sheet, and the yacht, under the dual impulse of engine and wind, shot forward and in a few seconds was clear.
[image]"THE BOOM SWUNG OUT, AND CAME INTO SHARP CONTACT, FIRST WITH NOAKES'S HEAD, THEN WITH THE WIND SCREEN."
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"THE BOOM SWUNG OUT, AND CAME INTO SHARP CONTACT, FIRST WITH NOAKES'S HEAD, THEN WITH THE WIND SCREEN."
"Hurroosh!" yelled the Irishman, standing with difficulty erect in the swaying vehicle and looking back along the road. "Noakes, if that's the name of him, is after shaking his fist on us. I wouldn't say but he's cursing mighty fine, but sure I can't hear him for the noise of the creature. Saunders and the driver-man might be having a shindy by the looks of it. His head might be sore on him, and he'll not deserve it,—the man, I mean: I wouldn't be wasting a word of pity on Saunders if so be it was him."
Meanwhile, Templeton, knowing that his petrol would barely last out, had slowed down.
"Tell me if they draw up with us," he called over his shoulder.
"I will, begor," said the Irishman. "She's after doing that same now, and smoking like a tug on the Liffey."
"He's driving her hard," added Eves.
"That's all right," said Templeton. "It's my turn now."
A bend in the road brought the wind only a few points on the port bow, and Templeton, sparing his petrol, allowed the yacht to lose way. The green car, hooting angrily, and leaving a huge trail of smoke, rattled on at a great pace, and moment by moment lessened the distance between it and the yacht. But Eves and Templeton between them, by their dexterous handling of steering wheel and sail, succeeded where the others had failed. The road was effectively blocked; short of running the yacht down, with the risk of heavy casualties on both sides, as Eves remarked, Noakes and his friend had no means of preventing their Irish competitor from maintaining his lead and coming first to the winning post.
For a full mile the yacht zigzagged from one side of the road to the other. Eves handled the sheet very smartly, but soon found it hopeless to attempt to cope at once with the gustiness of the wind and the sudden swerves of the yacht, and finally contented himself with letting the boom swing freely within a narrow circle, fearing every moment that a lurch would capsize them all. Another turn in the road again gave them the wind; the yacht darted forward on a straight course, and the Irishman reported in high glee that the green car, grunting like Patsy O'Halloran's pig and snorting like Mike Grady's bull, was dropping behind as fast as she could run.
"What's the time?" Templeton called suddenly over his shoulder.
"Nine minutes to the hour," replied the Irishman, consulting his watch. "Will we do it?"
Now that the exciting part of the race was apparently over, he had become alive to business. Twelve o'clock was the hour named for the lodging of tenders with the camp commandant; "and with the likes of the Army," he said, "you might be done if so be you was half a wink late. It's not that I've a word to say in favour of any matter of punctuality in the Army; but they're the way of making a mighty fuss over trifles. It was told me the name they put to it is red tape."
"We'll do it," said Templeton, "provided, first, the petrol lasts out the hill ahead; second, there aren't any lorries in the way. But in any case we must run it fine, you know. You don't want Noakes or Saunders to get in at all, I take it."
"Sorra a bit."
"Would they tender higher than you?" asked Eves.
"They might."
"What a pity we didn't give Noakes that message, Bob. Some one at the camp wanted to give him the tip to cut his tender; there was no other to hand."
"The like of that, now, and me having the name of an honest man! Will I have time enough to write a word or two with the stump of a pencil? I have my tender in my pocket folded."
"Better let it alone; we'll keep Noakes off. He's still rattling along, Bob; do we get the wind up the hill?"
"I'm afraid not. The road takes an awkward turn; just ahead there, you see. We'll have to rely on the petrol, and trust to luck."
The yacht rounded the turn, and the hill came in view—a short sharp spur about a quarter-mile in length. In a trice they dowsed the sails. Templeton switched on the engine, intending to rush the incline. Looking behind somewhat anxiously now, the Irishman declared that the green car was barging on like a mad steam engine. Roaring like a furnace, it seemed to leap over the ground, overhauling the yacht yard by yard until it was three-parts up the hill. Then the clamour suddenly ceased.
"Begor, she's stopped," cried the Irishman, exultantly.
"Big ends dropped off," said Templeton, grinning at Eves over his shoulder. "I gave him fair warning."
The yacht topped the crest. On the moor to the left a vast assemblage of huts and tents broke upon the view. By the roadside was parked a row of motor lorries. Here and there men were moving about. They stared and shouted to one another at the sight of the strange vehicle sailing towards them, or rather running now merrily on the last gill of petrol. Templeton narrowly escaped colliding with the nearest lorry, then slowed down and enquired the way to the commandant's office.
"You go in between them huts till you come to a swanky hut with a flag flying atop," replied the private addressed. "A rum turn-out, this here."
Driving on to the moor, Templeton was checked by the sentry, to whom, however, the Irishman explained that he was Patrick O'Reilly, come to tender for the camp waste.
"Pass: you'd better tender for the lot of us: we're all waste here," said the sentry. "Perhaps if you offered to buy us up they'd demob."
"I don't like that," said Templeton, gravely, as he drove on. "It's subversive of discipline."
"Don't worry," said Eves with a smile. "He saluted all right. It's two minutes to twelve: we did jolly well, old man."
Templeton drew up at the commandant's hut. O'Reilly sprang out, and after a brief colloquy with the sentry, who looked doubtfully at his bare head and touzled hair, was allowed to enter. In five minutes he returned, in animated converse with the colonel. That officer, acknowledging the punctilious salutes of Eves and Templeton, smiled at the smutty face of the latter, and remarked:
"This is a queer contrivance of yours, my man. I thought Mr. O'Reilly was a lunatic when he told me he'd arrived in a yacht, without being sick, and himself a bad sailor——"
"I am that," put in O'Reilly, parenthetically. "I wouldn't like to say how much the Irish Sea is owing me."
"But I see he's not so mad as I supposed," the colonel went on.
"Sure you'd be the better of a voyage in her yourself," said O'Reilly.
"Thank you. I think I prefer the real article. Not many of these machines in the market, are there?"
"None, sir," replied Eves, promptly. "It's the first, a brand-new invention of my friend Templeton here, second lieutenant in the Blankshire Rifles. He's a repatriated prisoner of war, employing his leave in working out ideas that germinated in captivity. That accounts for his being improperly dressed."
"Indeed! Is this the Mr. Templeton who narrowly escaped gassing my old friend Colonel Beavis?"
"A pure accident, sir, due to the colonel's adventurous spirit and a loose screw. Templeton was very much cut up about it."
"Dry up!" growled Templeton in a fierce undertone.
"Well, I congratulate Mr. O'Reilly," said the colonel, his eyes twinkling. "I gather that but for Mr. Templeton's road yacht he wouldn't have got here till after twelve, and he seemed a little hurt when I told him that a few minutes are neither here nor there. One must give a time limit, of course; but I shouldn't have turned down a good offer that happened to arrive a few minutes late. But what's this?"
A crowd of privates, shouting vociferously, was approaching from the direction of the road. A few words were distinguishable in the babel. "This way, governor." "Two to one on the long un." And as the throng turned into the lane between the huts, among the khaki figures appeared Philemon Noakes and his fur-coated companion, trotting along in feverish haste. The soldiers fell back as they neared the commandant's hut, and the two civilians advanced alone.
"Are you the colonel?" asked Noakes, panting.
"I am. You want to see me?"
"I'm the Mayor of Pudlington. This is my friend Ebenezer Saunders, who's come for to tender for the camp waste."
"As per advertisement," added Saunders.
There was something aggressive in each man's manner of speech. The colonel looked at his wrist watch.
"The time mentioned was twelve o'clock, gentlemen. It is now eight minutes past. You are eight minutes too late."
"You won't draw the line so tight," said Noakes. "A few minutes are neither here nor there in a matter of this sort, and as the Mayor of Pudlington——
"Excuse me, Mr. Mayor——"
"But it's all along o' this infernal machine," cried Noakes, angrily, throwing out his hand towards the road yacht. "It was on the wrong side o' the road, and we couldn't pass it no-how; obstructing of the king's highway: that's what it was; and as the Mayor of Pudlington I'll have the law of them, that I will."
"Oh, come, Mr. Noakes," said Eves, pleasantly. "You tried that once before, you know. You remember my friend Templeton, even if you've forgotten me. As a matter of fact, sir," he added, turning to the colonel, "they overdrove their car, and the big ends dropped off; otherwise—well, I shouldn't have been surprised if there'd been a bit of a scrap somewhere about the top of the hill."
"There would," said O'Reilly, decisively. "And what's more, it was the car that blocked the road, and a mighty fine trouble we had, the way we'd circumvent the creature."
"It's a scandal," cried Noakes.
"A regular low-down swindle," shouted the owner of the fur coat.
"That'll do, sir," said the colonel, sharply. "You'll be good enough to leave the camp—you and the Mayor of Pudlington."
Noakes threw at Eves a venomous glance—a glance in which was concentrated inextinguishable resentment for the unmasking he had suffered two years before. He made his way with Saunders back to the road and disappeared.
"There's more in this than meets the eye," said the colonel, smiling. "Will you gentlemen come into my hut and tell me something more of the Mayor of Pudlington?"
"With pleasure, sir," replied Eves. "Come along, Bob."
"Really, I must be getting back," said Templeton. "There's the garage, you know. Besides——" He looked over his dirty overalls and grimy hands.
"Well, you'll have to get some petrol; while you're doing that I'll relate what I know of the life history of Noakes. A splendid rag, old man," he added, as he turned to follow the colonel.
THE COLD WATER CURE
I
"We'll get some lunch at my digs," said Templeton, as he started with Eves on the return journey. "I'll have time to show you one or two ideas of mine before I am due back at the garage."
"Oh, I say, Bob, I'd made up my mind to stand you a topping lunch at some hotel or other. Lunch at digs!"
Eves's look was eloquent. Templeton smiled gently.
"There's only one hotel, or rather inn," he said, "and there you can only get Government beer. It has only domestic rations. Besides, you don't know my landlady—she's a gem! She expects me, you know, and she'll have enough for two."
"'A heart resigned, submissive, meek,'" Eves quoted. "Well, old sport, I'll try to bear up, and as I've a tremendous appetite after hospital slops, you know—just buck in, will you?"
The road being mainly down-hill, and the petrol tank now full, Templeton had resolved to run back on engine power alone, and had furled the sails. Just below the crest of the hill they passed the green car, about which Noakes and his two companions were apparently engaged in a heated altercation. Noakes scowled fiercely as the road yacht dashed on.
"Rummy we should come across that old humbug!" said Eves. "Still rummier that he should be Mayor of Pudlington. I thought the mayoralty was the reward for long years of civic virtue. Old Noakes can't have been here more than a couple of years. How is it you didn't know he was mayor?"
"My dear man, I'm not interested in municipal affairs. Besides, I've only been here a few weeks, and with only two months' leave——"
"Just so. Like the busy bee, you must improve each shining hour. That bee must have been a frightful prig."
"Come, now——"
"No offence, old bean! Of course he gathered loads of honey, and all that: a jolly useful life—adventurous, too—saw a lot of the world, don't you know: always on the move. That part would suit me to a T. We're both like the bee, you see: you in your industry, and what you may call stickiness; me in my roving propensity, my incurable levity, my passion for honeydew—in the form of cigarettes. I say, Bob, I think I'll write for the magazines. I don't see why my ideas shouldn't be worth something, as well as yours."
"What ideas?"
"That's an unkind cut, after I've been spouting ideas galore. I'm afraid the mechanical mind will always be blind to the beauties of literature. 'A primrose by the river's brim'—Steady, old sport, you nearly capsized us!" Templeton had swung round suddenly into a by-lane. "I was quoting a sublime passage from one William Wordsworth."
"Well, never mind him," said Templeton, drawing up in front of a solitary cottage. "Here we are! Go straight up the stairs—you'll find a clean towel. I'll tell Mrs. Pouncey you're here, and follow you."
When the two friends entered the little sitting-room a few minutes later the landlady, a short, very stout, pleasant-faced woman of sixty or thereabouts, had just placed two steaming plates of soup on the table.
"My friend Mr. Eves, Mrs. Pouncey," said Templeton.
"How d'ye do, Mrs. Pouncey?" said Eves, shaking hands. "Mr. Templeton has been telling me you're the best cook in the three kingdoms. You know you did, Bob; don't protest. He's very hard to please, Mrs. Pouncey, very; and if he's satisfied, you may be sure that a man of my humbler tastes will be absolutely bowled over."
"Well, now, I declare I wouldn't have thought it. Mr. Templeton have never said a single grumble, not one. He's the best young man lodger as I've ever had, that I will say—no trouble at all!"
"Ah, Mrs. Pouncey! how many young men lodgers have you said the same thing about? Your last lodger, for instance, now, confess!"
"'Deed no, sir. You be very far out. My last lodger was—there, I couldn't abide en, he was that cantankerous, and such language—I never did! I know a real gentleman when I see en, and he was nothing but a make-believe, for all his fur coat. Thankful I am he was only here a few days, and that to oblige the mayor."
"Mr. Noakes?"
"Ay, sure, that be the mayor's name, and well I know it. But do 'ee take your soup, now, 'twill be cold, and cold soup lays heavy, not to speak o' the nastiness, and the pork chops grilled to a cinder."
The good woman had toddled away while speaking, and her last words came faintly through the open door.
"Jolly good soup, Bob," said Eves. "And pork chops! Splendid! The old dame is a treasure. I'll get her to tell us about our worthy mayor."
Mrs. Pouncey returned with two well-grilled pork chops and a dish of sprouts and baked potatoes.
"Absolutely topping, Mrs. Pouncey!" said Eves. "What on earth did your last lodger find to grumble at, if you treated him like this?"
"Lor' bless 'ee, sir, he'd grumble at everything, pertickler at the bill. He'd want a penny took off here, and a penny there: and he would measure out his tea hisself, and cut his own rashers. I never did see the like."
"And a friend of the mayor, too!"
"Ay, and more'n a friend, so it do seem. 'Tis said here and there 'twas a gentleman—gentleman, says I, but that's the talk!—a gentleman from London as have Mr. Noakes in his pocket, so to speak it."
"Really!"
"Ay. No wonder you be mazed, the mayor being such a terrible great man and all. Some folks do rise quick in the world, to be sure. 'Tis only a matter of two year since he came here, from no one knowed where, and 'a took up a big contrack with the camp for building huts, and running a canteen, I think they do call it, and I don't know what all. Ay sure, he've his fingers in many a pie, but I warrant they'll get burnt, they will!"
"But how did a stranger become mayor so quickly?"
"Why, being such a great man, they put him on the Council, and t'other councillors being little small men, he got over 'em, that's what I say. Bless 'ee, he'd have got 'em to make him king, if so be there was kings out of London. Ah, he've a power of money! He bought this cottage that I've paid rent for regular this twenty year, and he telled me he'd raise the rent as soon as Parlyment will let him, if not before. And he made me take this Saunders man for twenty shillings a week, when I've never had less than twenty-five, never!"
Apple dumplings called Mrs. Pouncey from the room. When she returned with them, and Eves wanted to know how the apples got inside the crust, the dame gave a lengthy explanation which lasted till the conclusion of the meal.
"We've a few minutes," said Templeton then. "Come and see my road-sweeper."
He led Eves to an old shed at the rear of the premises. On entering, Eves's eye was caught by a large formless mass of a substance somewhat resembling putty.
"Hullo!" he cried. "Been playing with plasticine?"
"That's another little idea of mine," replied Templeton. "A new fire extinguisher."
"You had better form a company, old sport. 'Bright Ideas, Unlimited.' How's it work?"
"It's very simple. You let a shallow tank, about a quarter-inch deep, into the ceiling of a room. The bottom, flush with the plaster, is pierced with holes like a sieve, the holes are plugged with my composition, and you run water into the tank. If a fire occurs the heat melts the composition——"
"I see! Splendid! Down comes the rain and puts out the fire! But will the shower last long enough?"
"Really, I'm surprised at you, Tom! The fall from a tank like that will be equivalent to an average week's rainfall. But the point of the idea is the composition. I've tried other preparations without success, but this stuff of mine sets hard and yet melts easily. By varying the proportions of the ingredients you can get it to melt at different temperatures, but I haven't quite finished my experiments in that direction. The difficulty is to gauge the exact temperature required, but I'll manage it before long."
"It hasn't been tried yet in a building, then?"
"Not exactly; but a decent local builder was rather taken with it when I showed it to him, and he's giving it a trial at the new Literary Institute he's putting up. The building was stopped by the war, but he has already started work again, and he's willing to test the idea before the plasterers finish. He has rigged up a sort of tray on the laths in the roof of the big room, and one of these days is going to put a brazier underneath. You see, if the stuff melts too easily, it will only mean a slop on the floor, and won't do any damage."
"I see. What are you going to call the stuff?"
"Time enough for that when I've perfected the invention and sent in for my patent. Here's my road-sweeper."
He pointed to a somewhat rusty vehicle standing against one of the walls.
"I'm only waiting for a supply of petrol to try it," he added. "The old engine uses up a frightful lot. But our allowance is due in to-morrow. I say, can you stay a day or two? Mrs. Pouncey can put you up."
"Rather! I've got ten days' leave."
"That's all right, then. Now we had better get back to the garage. Wilkins will be in a bait if it's not open sharp at two."
II
As Templeton drew up in front of the garage, a bill-sticker was posting a bill on one of the side posts of the gate. The heading, hi large type, caught Eves's eye, and when he got down to open the gate, he stayed to read the announcement while Templeton drove through.
"I say, Bob, there'll be a splendid rag to-morrow," he said on rejoining his friend. "There's a meeting of parliamentary electors at the new Literary Institute—a final kick before the election on Saturday. Old Noakes is in the chair: he's a pacifist, you remember, and the bill gives short notice that the meeting will be addressed by——" (He mentioned the name of a notorious agitator.) "We'll go. Ask a few questions, perhaps."
"Soldiers in uniform are forbidden to——"
"Rats! That's all gone by the board. The soldier's a citizen now-a-days.... I say, is this Wilkins?"
"My employer," replied Templeton.
A thick-set man wearing a long coat and a motor cap was coming up the path.
"Well, any business a-doing?" he asked of Templeton.
"There have been two callers: one was a man who'd over-driven his machine and run short of oil. He was in a tearing hurry, and distinctly offensive. I did what I could for him, and warned him he'd lose his big ends if he wasn't careful. Here's the half-crown he paid me."
"Half-a-crown! No more than that?"
"Well, he paid what I asked."
"Rot it all! You didn't ask enough. A feller in a hurry, and likewise rude, ought to be made to pay. Look 'ee here, Mr. Templeton, you're a young feller, and have got a thing or two to learn: you'd best get a notion of charging if you're to be of any use to me."
"What about that, then?" asked Templeton, handing him a couple of pound notes.
"Ah, now, that's better, to be sure! How did 'ee get 'em?" asked Wilkins, pocketing the notes with a pleased smile.
"An Irishman wanted to get to the camp in a hurry. He happened to be polite, so I drove him up in my road yacht. As a matter of fact, we passed the other fellow in his car: he had picked up your mayor, and I gathered he was a business rival of the Irishman. I wasn't sorry we beat him; his big ends dropped off, as I warned him."
Eves noticed that Wilkins's face grew more and more glum as Templeton was speaking, and remembered the telephone call he had answered.
"The Irishman was so pleased that he offered me five pounds," Templeton went on, "but I thought two pounds was a fair charge."
"Then dang me if you ain't done me out of three pounds!" cried the man, irritably. "Did any one ever hear the likes of refusing good money when 'twas offered free? Done me out of three pounds—threepounds, look 'ee, as ought to have been in my pocket! Done me out of it, you have!"
Eves felt that this outburst was not wholly due to Templeton's moderation in charging.
"Well, Mr. Wilkins," said Templeton, quietly, "I'm sorry you're not satisfied. Perhaps we had better part."
"I don't say that," said Wilkins, calming himself with an effort. "You're a gentleman, that's where 'tis, and not bred up to understand business. I'll say no more—let it bide—but another time don't 'ee go and refuse good money; that's business. Well, I'm off up along to the town; know where I can get some petrol on the quiet; that's business too. I'll be back afore long."
"You keep queer company, old man!" said Eves, when Wilkins was out of ear-shot.
"He's trying at times, I confess—a rough diamond," said Templeton. "But I think he's sound."
"I wonder! Somebody wanted him to give Noakes a tip, you remember. He must be very well in with Noakes, and that's suspicious in itself. His face was as long as a fiddle when you told him O'Reilly got in ahead of Noakes."
"Well, I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. Now, I've got to make a new crank pin for a motor cycle that was brought in for repair this morning. It'll take me some time, and I don't want to keep you hanging about. Why not go into the town and have a look round?"
"Righto. What time do you knock off?"
"Five."
"I'll call for you, then. So long!"
At half-past four, when Eves returned, the workshop was lighted by the two oil lamps which were its only illumination. Templeton had just finished his work, and was washing his hands at the sink.
"I've spent a profitable afternoon," said Eves, returning to his seat on the bench. "Don't think much of Pudlington, but an enquiring mind like mine can pick up pearls anywhere. I was strolling along when I came to an uncommonly ugly unfinished building, with 'Literary Institute' carved over the door. Some fellows were unloading chairs from a cart, and carrying them in. I went in too, and found your respectable friend the local builder there, superintending the fitting of some gas-burners. 'Getting ready for the meeting to-morrow?' I said to him. 'Ay, sure, sir,' said he. 'Town Hall's occypied by Food Controller and Fuel Controller, and I don't know what all, so the meeting's to be held here, though unfinished.' 'Rather a cold place,' I said. 'Bless 'ee, we'll hot 'em up to-morrow,' said he. 'The walls will sweat like you never see. We've got a proper fine furnace down underneath, and the only pity is I haven't got the ceiling plastered; 'twould have dried a bit.' Whereupon I mentioned your proposed experiment with your fire extinguisher, and the old boy became cordial at once when I told him you were a friend of mine. You've evidently impressed him, Bob."
Templeton grunted.
"It's quite true. To be a friend of yours lifts one a good many notches. 'That young gemman do have a terrible powerful piece of intelleck inside of his brain-pan,' says your builder. 'Ay, and what's more, he's a rare earnest soul, always inventing things for the good of his day and generation. He's a credit to the nation, that he be!' Of course I congratulated him and Pudlington on the temporary possession of so bright an ornament, and we had quite a friendly talk. He seemed rather doubtful whether it's legal to hold a public meeting in a building before it has been passed by the surveyor, but Noakes is above the law, or thinks he is. We'll go to-morrow, Bob: it'll be a good rag."
"I'm not sure that I want to go to the meeting," said Templeton.
"Oh, you must! I want to see Noakes's face when he spies us in the audience. By the way, I think he must be rather thick with your Wilkins. Not many minutes after I'd left the Institute I met the green car being towed along by two great farm horses. Noakes and Saunders were walking alongside. Noakes gave me his usual scowl as he passed, which I countered with my usual grin. Presently I walked round to the market-place, and there was Noakes again, in close confab with Wilkins. When they saw me they both began to talk at once, and it seemed to me that each was telling the other that he had the honour of my acquaintance. At any rate they both looked rather surprised and a good deal more than interested, and their heads were very close together when I saw them last."
"I'm sick of Noakes," said Templeton, somewhat irritably.
"What's the matter? Has he been here?"
"No, but half an hour after you left, Wilkins came back with a can of petrol, and offered it to me for my experiments in a way that was positively fawning."
"To make amends for his roughness before."
"I don't like that sort of thing. It's too much Noakes's way, and what you say throws light on it. If he and Noakes are pals—well, when I wangle, even if it's petrol, I like to do it in decent company. I disliked Wilkins's manner so much that I declined the petrol: told him I'd wait for the regular supply. The odd thing is that Noakes has not been here at the shop in my time."
"Rather lucky for you, for if he'd found you here, he would have told Wilkins you're a dangerous character, and got you fired out. He may do that yet."
"Well, let's get along home. Mrs. Pouncey will have high tea ready, and I'm ravenous."
After their meal, which was tea and supper combined, they smoked for an hour in the sitting-room. Then Templeton jumped up.
"Botheration!" he exclaimed. "I was going to work on my turbine specification, but I've left it in a drawer at the shop. I shall have to pull on my boots again and fetch it."
"Can't it wait? It's a horrid night."
"I really can't waste a whole evening. My time's getting short, and I've lots still to do."
"Well, I'll come along with you. After supper walk a mile, you know. It's about a mile there and back, I suppose."
The night was damp and murky. The country lane was unlit, and they found their way by intermittent flashes of Templeton's electric torch. There was no dwelling between Mrs. Pouncey's cottage and the garage, and at this hour, half-past eight on a winter night, they were not likely to meet either pedestrians or vehicles. So much the greater, therefore, was Templeton's surprise, when, on approaching the spot where the garage and workshop stood, he saw a dim light through the window of the latter.
"Wilkins went off at half-past three, and said he wouldn't be back to-night," said Templeton. "I suppose he changed his mind."
To reach the door they had to pass the window. It was only natural that Eves, who was on the inside, should glance in. Catching Templeton by the arm, he drew him back out of the rays of the lamp-light, whispering:
"There's some one stooping at a drawer, trying a key, apparently. Couldn't see his face, the light's too dim."
"It's Wilkins, I expect. No one else has any right here," replied Templeton. "I'll take a look."
Peeping round the frame of the window, through the dirty pane, he was able to distinguish nothing but a man's form at the further end of the shop. The lamp, hanging from the middle of the roof, was turned very low, and the bent attitude of the man, with his back three-parts towards the window, rendered it impossible to discern his features. He was covered with a long waterproof, and a storm cap was pulled low over his head. From his movements it was clear that he was trying one key after another.
"It's not Wilkins," whispered Templeton. "I never saw him dressed like that."
"Then it's a burglar," replied Eves. "Nab him!"
They moved on tip-toe to the door. Templeton grasped the handle, murmuring:
"I'll turn it suddenly—then make a dash!"
There was absolute quiet all around, and the sound of jingling keys came faintly through the door. After a few moments' pause Templeton turned the handle noiselessly, and pushed the door open. The damp weather had, however, swollen the timber, and the slight sound it made as it strained against the door-post attracted the attention of the man beyond. Still stooping over the drawer, he turned his head sharply.
"My hat! Noakes!" muttered Eves.
Springing into the shop past Templeton, who had halted on recognising Noakes, as if to consider matters, Eves dashed at the waterproofed figure. The moment's warning had enabled Noakes to prepare for attack. He projected a bony shoulder, prevented Eves from getting the clutch he intended, and made a rush towards the door.
"Collar him, Bob!" cried Eves.
During the next minute there was a rough-and-tumble in which Noakes's legs played as free a part as was possible to a man encased in a long waterproof. He displayed astounding agility in evading close action, and it was not until Eves caught him by the heel as he kicked out that he was brought to the ground. "I'll sit on him," said Eves. "Ring up the police station, Bob, and ask them to send a constable to arrest a burglar."
"But are you sure—" Templeton began.
"Don't argue," said Eves. "He's a desperate character; I can hardly hold him."
Templeton went to the telephone, lifted the receiver, then turned again towards Eves.
"Don't you think, as it's Mr. Noakes——" he said.
"Mr. Noakes! The Mayor of Pudlington?" interrupted Eves. "Picking locks! Nonsense! Ring up at once, Bob, and then come and help: the ruffian will be too much for me, just out of hospital."
Templeton gave the message.
"They'll send a man at once. He'll be here in about ten minutes," he reported. "Are you sure it isn't Mr. Noakes? I could have sworn I recognised him."
"So I am—so I am," panted the prisoner, who had hitherto struggled in silence. "What the Turk do 'ee mean by assaulting me—murderous assault—Mayor of Pudlington?"
"Now, now, don't be rash!" said Eves. "You won't make matters any better by pretending to be our worthy mayor. He won't like that, you know, when you're brought into court to-morrow. I shall have to give evidence, and when I tell him that the fellow caught rifling a drawer took his name in vain——"
"But I be the mayor—Philemon Noakes; and I'll send you to jail for assault and battery, without the option of a fine. Let me go! I'm the mayor, I tell 'ee!"
"I really think he's telling the truth," said Templeton.
Just then Noakes, kicking out, dealt Templeton a heavy blow on the ankle.
"You had better lie still, whoever you are!" said the latter, warmly. "Violence won't help you!"
"Of course not—only makes things ten times worse!" said Eves. "Catch his legs, Bob; if he isn't quiet we'll have to truss him up. I never came across such an impudent scoundrel. Here's a burglar, caught in the act, claiming to be the chief magistrate! That beats everything! How's it possible? I say, Bob, there'll be a queer scene in court to-morrow. Suppose it were true, I can't for the life of me see how the mayor on the bench and the criminal in the dock are going to arrange matters. Will he hop from one to the other, and finally sentence himself? That's a Jekyll and Hyde problem I can't solve. But here's somebody coming—the bobby, I expect."
Through the half-open door came a policeman, with handcuffs hanging from his wrists.
"Here he is, constable!" said Eves. "He's been struggling, but I dare say he'll go quietly."
"Now then, there," said the constable, "get up and come along quiet. We've been looking for you a month past. Who gives him in charge?"
"I do," said Eves, "though I suppose Mr. Templeton ought to do it. You know Mr. Templeton, constable? Temporary assistant to Mr. Wilkins."
"Ay, sure, I've seed the gentleman." Noakes had now risen, and stood before the constable, Eves on one side, Templeton on the other. His face, hitherto in shade, had come within the rays of the dim lamp.
"Daze me!" said the constable, after a hard stare. "Surely—ay, 'tis the mayor, with the beginning of a black eye!"