thing in
particular. He was a model publican, from his velvet skullcap and
immaculate Dundreary whiskers to his brilliantly polished and squeaky
boots.

As he pursued his contemplation Mr. Gandy saw the outer doors pushed
open, admitting a stream of yellow sunshine and with it a little
bald-headed man with a red nose and green baize apron. It was Bindle.
He approached the counter, eyed Mr. Gandy deliberately, and ordered a
pint of ale.

Mr. Gandy drew the beer as if it were a sacred office, wheezing the
while. He was a man with a ponderous manner, and a full bar or an
empty bar made no difference to the sacred flow of the liquor. He had
an eye that could cower a "drunk" more effectually than the muscle of a
barman.

"Dry work, movin'," said Bindle pleasantly.

Mr. Gandy wheezed.

"I'm a stranger 'ere," Bindle continued, as he produced some bread and
cheese from a piece of pink newspaper. "Funny little 'ole I calls it.
Nothin' to do, as far as I can see. No street accidents 'ere, wot?"
and he laughed genially at his own joke.

"You're one of the pantechnicon-men from Holmleigh?" queried Mr. Gandy
with dignity.

"Right, first time!" laughed the irrepressible Bindle with his mouth
full of bread and cheese. "I'm up at the fort, I am."

"The fort?" queried Mr. Gandy. "The fort?"

"Yes, the fort," grinned Bindle. "That's what I calls it. Never saw
so many guns in all me puff--millions of 'em."

Bindle was obviously serious, and Mr. Gandy became interested. At that
moment a carter entered. Bindle immediately proceeded to get into
conversation with the newcomer. Presently he caught Mr. Gandy's eye
and read in it curiosity. Mr. Gandy then slowly transferred, his gaze
to the door of the bar-parlour. Bindle followed Mr. Gandy's eye, and
with a nod, sauntered towards the door, looked round, saw that he was
right and passed through, softly closing it behind him.

A minute later Mr. Gandy moved in the same direction, lifted the flap
of the bar and passed into the room, also closing the door behind him.
As he left the bar he touched a bell which produced Mrs. Gandy, in
black, wearing much jewellery and a musical-comedy smile as persistent
as Mr. Gandy's wheeze.

When Bindle went forth from the bar-parlour it was with a joyous look
in his eye and half-a-crown in his pocket. Outside the Dove and Easel
he lifted his green baize apron, a finger and thumb at each corner, and
made a few shuffling movements w