ht go and sit on the top," said the Major. "It's a nice
afternoon."

So the two officers went and sat on the top of the motor-bus. The Major
gossiped with soothing tranquillity. He said that he was a pianoforte
manufacturer; his father, from whom he had inherited, had traded under a
German name because people preferred German pianos to English; he now
regretted this piece of astuteness on the part of his father; he was
trying to sell his business--he had had enough of it.

"Hi! You!" he called, standing up quite unexpectedly and leaning over
the front of the bus to hail the driver. "Hi! You!" But the driver did
not hear, and the bus drove forward like fate. The Major, who had
hitherto seemed to be exempt from the general perturbation of Wimbledon
troops, suddenly showed excitement. "We must stop this bus somehow! Why
the devil doesn't he stop? I've forgotten the rope-shop."

"I'll stop it, sir," said George, maintaining an admirable presence of
mind in the crisis, and he rose and pushed down the knob of the
signal-rod at the back of the bus. The bus did actually stop.

"Ah!" murmured the Major, calmed.

The soldier raced upstairs.

"Hall!"

"Yessir."

"Do you know a rope and string shop near the Granville Theatre of
Varieties at Walham Green?"

"No, sir."

"Well, there is one. Tell him to stop at the Granville."

"Yessir."

The Major resumed his bland conversation. At Putney they saw the first
contents-bill of the afternoon papers.

"How do you think things are going, sir?" George asked.

"It's very difficult to say," answered the Major. "This Mons business is
serious."

"Yes, sir."

The discovery of the rope-shop involved a policeman's aid. When the rope
had been purchased and new silver brought forth from the bag, and the
receipt made out, and the item struck off and the amount entered, and
the bus had started again, George perceived that he would soon be
passing the end of Elm Park Gardens. Dared he ask the Major to deflect
the bus into Elm Park Road so that he might obtain news of Lois? He
dared not. The scheme, simple and feasible enough, was nevertheless
unthinkable. The bus, with 'Liverpool Street' inscribed on its forehead,
rolled its straight inevitable course along Fulham Road, pursued by the
disappointed glances of gesturing wayfarers who wanted it to take them
to Liverpool Street.

After about two hours of fine confused shopping the Major stopped his
bus at a Tube station in the north