the driver of a Covent Garden dray should exhibit such an ensign.

Cranbourne let the window down with a bang, stuck out his head and
shouted,

"Where the devil did you get that tie?"

It is not hard to believe that this remark, apparently so irrelevant,
did little to calm an already excited situation. The driver loosed his
hold upon the reins, seized his whip and slashed it at Cranbourne's
head. Cranbourne caught the whistling thong and tugged hard, with the
result that the driver, who held on to the butt, lost his balance,
pitched forward on to the flank of the nearside dray horse and rolled
harmlessly on to the road. Cranbourne embraced the opportunity to get
out, seized the bit rings of both horses and backed them away from the
debris of the taxi.

Meanwhile the driver picked himself up and removed his coat as a proper
preliminary to engagement.

"Put 'em up," he invited Cranbourne. "Put 'um up, you----" but the
descriptive titles he employed do not affect the narrative.

Cranbourne shook his head and tugged a note case from his pocket.

"Five pounds," he said, "if you answer my question. Where did you get
it?"

The driver exhibited some sample upper cuts and left hooks and
beseeched Cranbourne to guard himself. But Cranbourne detached a fiver
from its fellows and extended it temptingly.

"Don't you see I'm in earnest, man?"

The tone of his voice had a sobering effect and the amateur pugilist
ceased manoeuvring.

"Why do you want to know?" he demanded.

"Never mind that--take the money and tell me."

"I got it," said the driver, "from a blame fool at the coffee stall by
Hyde Park Corner. Bought 'im a doorstep and a ball of chalk b'way of
return."

"When was this?"

"Day before yesterday--six o'clock in the morning."

"And what was he like?"

The answer clinched it.

"Was he shaved?"

"No."

"Broke?"

"I reckon. Been sleepin' out by the looks of 'im."

"Seen him since?"

"Couldn't be sure. Maybe it was 'im I saw sleepin' on the bench by the
Shelter 'Ouse in Piccadilly 'bout four this morning. There was a bloke
there with a soft 'at and a brown coat."

Cranbourne produced another fiver and pushed it into the man's hand.

"You're the best fellow I've met in years," he said. Then turning to
the taxi driver, "Get home as best you can. I'm going to look for a
lift. Here's my card. I'll stand your losses on this."

He looked over his shoulder at the sound of a persistent