use it's a stiffish bit of a climb, and in the holiday season there's
always a lot of raffish young fellows hangin' round to see the ladies go
down--to see what they can see, you knaw. But I never 'ave no accidents
like that. No bold-eyed young chap ever saw the leg of any lady in my
charge--not so much as the top of a boot, because I knaw how to taake them
down. I'm well known to some of the 'ighest ladies in the land because I
'ev been aable to take care of their legs when they were goin' down. I've
had letters from them thaankin' me. You've no idea how grateful they be."

This startling instance of the stern morality of aristocratic womanhood
was unfortunately wasted on Barrant, whose thoughts had reverted to the
principal preoccupation of his mind. Mr. Portgartha rambled on.

"Aw, but it's strange to be meetin' you like this, in old Garge's
wagonette. For twelve months I've been goin' acrass the moors to see a
sister of mine, who's lonely, poor saul, havin' lost her man in the
war--drawned in a drifter 'e was--and catchin' this wagonette back every
night, with never a saul to speak to, until last night. Last night there
was a passerger, and to-night there's you. Tes strange, come to think of
it." He looked hard at Barrant as if for some confirmatory expression of
surprise at this remarkable accession to the wagonette's fares. He waited
so long that Barrant felt called upon to say something.

"Who was your fellow passenger last night?"

"Now you're asking me a question which takes a bit of answerin'," replied
Mr. Portgartha. "'Twas like this. I was waitin' at the crass-roads for old
Garge to come along, when a young womon came up out of th' darkness and
stood not far from me--just by the ol' crass. I tried to maake out who she
was, but it was too daark. So I just says to her, 'Good ebenin', miss, are
you waitin' for the wagonette too?' She never answered a word, and before
I could think of anything else to say old Garge came along, and we both
got in She sat in a corner, silent as a ghooste. Well, then, I went to
light th' lamp, same as I have to-night, but as luck would 'ave it, I
hadn't a match. I knaw it was no use askin' old Garge, 'cos he'd pretend
not to hear, so I turned to the young womon sittin' opposite, and asked
her if she had a match in her pocket. And do you knaw, I declare to
gudeness she never said nawthen, not so much as a word!"

"Perhaps she was dumb?" Barrant suggested.

"Aw, iss, doomb enough