ed into believing, even for a
moment, that there was really a case of hydrophobia at Bleakridge. It
is true that Mr. Bryany was innocent of this deception, which had been
accomplished by Robert Brindley, but that was a detail which did
not trouble Edward Henry, who lumped his grievances together--for
convenience.

He had been reflecting that some sentimental people, unused to the
ways of paternal affection in the Five Towns, might consider him a
rather callous father; he had been reflecting, again, that Nellie's
suggestion of blood-poisoning might not be as entirely foolish as
feminine suggestions in such circumstances too often are. But now
he put these thoughts away, reassuring himself against hydrophobia
anyhow, by the recollection of the definite statement of the
_Encyclopedia_. Moreover, had he not inspected the wound--as healthy a
wound as you could wish for?

And he said in a new tone, very curtly:

"Now, Mr. Bryany, what about this little affair of yours?"

He saw that Mr.. Bryany accepted the implied rebuke with the deference
properly shown by a man who needs something towards the man in
possession of what he needs. And studying the fellow's countenance,
he decided that, despite its brassiness and simple cunning, it was
scarcely the countenance of a rascal.

"Well, it's like this," said Mr.. Bryany, sitting down opposite Edward
Henry at the centre table, and reaching with obsequious liveliness for
the dispatch-box.

He drew from the dispatch-box, which was lettered "W.C.B.," first a
cut-glass flask of whisky with a patent stopper, and then a spacious
box of cigarettes.

"I always travel with the right sort," he remarked, holding the golden
liquid up to the light. "It's safer and it saves any trouble with
orders after closing-time.... These English hotels, you know--!"

So saying he dispensed whisky and cigarettes, there being a siphon and
glasses, and three matches in a match-stand, on the table.

"Here's looking!" he said, with raised glass.

And Edward Henry responded, in conformity with the changeless ritual
of the Five Towns:

"I looks!"

And they sipped.

Whereupon Mr. Bryany next drew from the dispatch-box a piece of
transparent paper.

"I want you to look at this plan of Piccadilly Circus and environs,"
said he.

Now there is a Piccadilly in Hanbridge; also a Pall Mall and a
Chancery Lane. The adjective "metropolitan," applied to Hanbridge, is
just.

"London?" questioned Edward He