"And now," he said, "I suppose the Watch Committee'll not grant my licence for the Road-Touring Syndicate when it comes up afore em on Thursday. And I'll be a ruined man."
"I shouldn't be surprised," answered Mr. Pigott, who was an alderman and a great man on the Town Council.
Alf was furious. He was so furious, indeed, that he did a thing he had not done for years: he took his trouble to his mother.
"It's a regular plot," he said, "that's what it is. To get my licence stopped and ruin me. Raised the money; ordered the buses; engaged the staff and all. And then they spring this on me!—It ain't Ernie. I will say that for him. I know who's at the bottom of it."
"Who then?" asked his mother, faintly interested.
"Her Ern keeps."
Mrs. Caspar roused instantly.
"Isn't she married to him then?" she cried, peering over her spectacles.
"Is she?" sneered Alf. "That's all."
He leaned forward, his ugly face dreadful with a sneer.