opdriver, catching his breath,
yet bringing the question out valiantly, nevertheless,--"since when 'ave
you purchased the county of Sussex?"

"May I point out," said the other man in brown, "that I object--we
object not only to your proximity to us. To be frank--you appear to be
following us--with an object."

"You can always," said Mr. Hoopdriver, "turn round if you don't like it,
and go back the way you came."

"Oh-o!" said the other man in brown. "THAT'S it! I thought as much."

"Did you?" said Mr. Hoopdriver, quite at sea, but rising pluckily to the
unknown occasion. What was the man driving at?

"I see," said the other man. "I see. I half suspected--" His manner
changed abruptly to a quality suspiciously friendly. "Yes--a word with
you. You will, I hope, give me ten minutes."

Wonderful things were dawning on Mr. Hoopdriver. What did the other man
take him for? Here at last was reality! He hesitated. Then he thought of
an admirable phrase. "You 'ave some communication--"

"We'll call it a communication," said the other man.

"I can spare you the ten minutes," said Mr. Hoopdriver, with dignity.

"This way, then," said the other man in brown, and they walked slowly
down the North Street towards the Grammar School. There was, perhaps,
thirty seconds' silence. The other man stroked his moustache nervously.
Mr. Hoopdriver's dramatic instincts were now fully awake. He did
not quite understand in what role he was cast, but it was evidently
something dark and mysterious. Doctor Conan Doyle, Victor Hugo, and
Alexander Dumas were well within Mr. Hoopdriver's range of reading, and
he had not read them for nothing.

"I will be perfectly frank with you," said the other man in brown.

"Frankness is always the best course," said Mr. Hoopdriver.

"Well, then--who the devil set you on this business?"

"Set me ON this business?"

"Don't pretend to be stupid. Who's your employer? Who engaged you for
this job?"

"Well," said Mr. Hoopdriver, confused. "No--I can't say."

"Quite sure?" The other man in brown glanced meaningly down at his hand,
and Mr. Hoopdriver, following him mechanically, saw a yellow milled edge
glittering in the twilight. Now your shop assistant is just above the
tip-receiving class, and only just above it--so that he is acutely
sensitive on the point.

Mr. Hoopdriver flushed hotly, and his eyes were angry as he met those
of the other man in brown. "Stow it!" said Mr. Hoopdriver, stopping and
fa