patience and politeness. Under the circumstances I decided to extend
it.

"I am going across the street to get some things I want," I observed.
"You can wait here."

He made an unpleasant sound in his throat, which I think he intended
for an ironical laugh. "Wot you want's a bus," he remarked; "a bus an'
a bell an' a ruddy conductor."

I came quite close and looked up into his face, smiling. "What you
want," I said quietly, "is a damned good thrashing, and if I have any
more of your insolence I'll pull you down out of the trap and give you
one."

I think something in my voice must have told him I was speaking the
literal truth, for although his mouth opened convulsively it closed
again without any audible response.

I strolled serenely across the road to where I saw an "Off-Licence."
I had acted in an indiscreet fashion, but whatever happened I was
determined to put up with no further rudeness from anybody. I had had
all the discourtesy I required during my three years in Princetown.

My purchases at the Off-Licence consisted of three bottles of whisky
and two more of some rather obscure brand of champagne. It was
possible, of course, that McMurtrie's ideas of catering included such
luxuries, but there seemed no reason for running any unnecessary risk.
As a prospective host it was clearly my duty to take every reasonable
precaution.

Armed with my spoils I returned to the trap, and stored them away
carefully beneath the seat. Then I climbed up alongside the driver.

"Now you can go to Warren's Copse," I said; and without making any
reply the tomato-faced gentleman jerked round his horse's head, and
back we went up the street.

I can't say it was exactly an hilarious drive. I felt cheerful enough
myself, but my companion maintained a depressed and lowering silence,
broken only by an occasional inward grunt, or a muttered curse at
the horse. It struck me as curious and not a little sinister that
McMurtrie should be employing such an uncouth ruffian, but I supposed
that he had some sound reason for his choice. I couldn't imagine
McMurtrie doing anything without a fairly sound reason.

Within about ten minutes of leaving the town, we came out on to the
main road that bounded the landward side of the marshes. I caught
sight of my future home looking very small and desolate against the
long stretch of sea-wall, and far in the distance I could just discern
the mast of the _Betty_ still tapering up above the bank o