When tackled further on the subject by Monkey Brand, the tout admitted the fact without demur and even with pride.
"Yes," he swaggered. "I'm a commission agent. A very honourable profession, too."
"Not ha hartist at all?" queried Monkey, chewing his quid.
Joses laughed and spread himself, throwing back his gingery curls.
"I was at Oxford," he said, "and I've all the tastes of a gentleman. Art and poetry are my specialties—when my professional duties allow me time."
The little dark jockey turned in his lips, eyeing the other with bland interest.
"'Ark to him!" he said. "Don't he talk. Learned the patter at Oxford College, I expect." He turned on his lame leg. "Anyway, we know now where we are, Mr. Moses Joses."
After the incident in the Post Office Joses dropped his easel and went about with field-glasses unashamed. To give him his due, there were few better watchers in the trade. A man of education and great natural ability, he was quite unscrupulous as to how he achieved his end.
As Chukkers said of him: