ted a few days. Big vans, painted
vermilion and indigo, going about town and suburbs distributing
handbills and so on."

"I see. But look here, Greenacre, what's all this rot about Lord
Bolsover?"

"My dear Gammon," protested the other. "I really can't allow you to
speak in that way. I make all allowance for the hour and the
circumstances, but when it comes to the death of a dear friend--"

"How the devil come you to be his friend, or he yours?" shouted Gammon
in comical exasperation.

"Why, surely you have heard me speak of him. Yet, perhaps not. It was
rather a painful subject. The fact is, I once gave the poor fellow a
severe thrashing; it was before he succeeded to the title I was obliged
to do it. Poor Bolsover confessed afterwards that he had behaved badly
(there was a lady in the case), but it put an end to our intimacy. And
now he's gone, and the least I can do is to attend his funeral. That
reminds me, Gammon, I fear I shall have to borrow a sovereign, if it's
quite convenient to you. There's the hire of the black suit, you see,
and the fare to Hitchin. Do you think you could?"

He paused delicately, whereupon Gammon burst into a roar of laughter
which echoed through the still house.

"You're the queerest devil I know," was the remark that followed. "It's
no use trying to make out what you're really up to."

"I have stated the case in very clear terms," replied Greenacre
solemnly. "The chief thing is to find a substitute to drive the
'Saponaria' van."

"What sort of animal in the shafts?"

"Two--a pail of Welsh cobs--good little goers."

"By jingo!" shouted Gammon, "I'll tool 'em round myself. I'm off for
to-morrow, and a job of that kind would just suit me."

Greenacre's face brightened with relief. He began to describe the route
which the "Saponaria" van had to pursue.

"It's the south-east suburbs to-morrow, the main thoroughfares of
Greenwich, Blackheath, Lewisham, and all round there. There are certain
shops to call at to drop bills and samples; no order-taking. Here's the
list. At likely places you throw out a shower of these little blue
cards. Best is near a Board School when the children are about. I'm
greatly obliged to you, Gammon; I never thought you'd be able to do it
yourself. Could you be at the stable just before nine? I'd meet you and
give you a send-off. Bait at--where is it?" He consulted the notebook.
"Yes, Prince of Wales's Feathers, Catford Bridge; no money out of
pocket; al