s amazed.

He was even more astonished when he heard himself saying, as he shook
Bindle warmly by the hand, "Thank you, Joseph, for--for----" And then
he lapsed into silence, wondering what it really was for which he was
thankful.

That night Mrs. Bindle had much food for thought. She had heard Mr.
Sopley's invitation.

CHAPTER XV

BINDLE AND THE GERMAN MENACE

I

"One of the points about this perfession, Ginger," Bindle remarked, "is
that yer sometimes gets an 'oliday."

The two men were seated on the steps leading up to Holmleigh, a
handsome house standing in its own grounds in the village of Little
Compton, in Suffolk.

"Fancy you an' me sittin' 'ere drinkin' in the sunshine," continued
Bindle with a grin.

Ginger grunted.

"Though, Ginger, sunshine ain't got no froth, an' it ain't altogether
good for yer complexion, still it's good for vegetables and most likely
for you too, Ginger. 'Ere we are, 'edges, trees, and no temptation.
The village beauties is nearly as ugly as wot you are, Ginger. Puts me
in mind o' one of the ole 'Earty 'ymns:

"Where every prospect pleases,
And only man is vile."

When they wrote that 'ymn, Ginger, they must 'ave been thinkin' o' you
at Little Compton.

"Well, I'm orf for a drink; I can't eat me dinner dry, same's you. The
further yer goes for yer beer the more yer enjoys it. Sorry you're too
tired, ole son. S' long!"

Bindle and Ginger, among others, had been selected by the foreman to
accompany him on an important moving job. A Mr. Henry Miller, well
known throughout the kingdom as possessing one of the most valuable
collections of firearms in the country, was moving from London into
Suffolk. He had stipulated that only thoroughly trustworthy men should
be permitted to handle his collection, and insisted on the contractors
supplying all the hands instead of, as was usual, sending one man and
hiring the others locally. Thus it came about that Bindle and the
gloomy Ginger found themselves quartered for a few days at Lowestoft.

As Bindle approached the Dove and Easel, famous as being the only inn
in the kingdom so named, Mr. John Gandy stood reading a newspaper
behind the bar. When business was slack Mr. Gandy always read the
newspaper, and in consequence was the best-informed man upon public
affairs in Little Compton.

As if sensing a customer, Mr. Gandy laid down the paper and gazed
severely over the top of his gold-rimmed spectacles at no