"It will precious soon come to that. It was the devil of a fight to keep things straight last week."
"What's the matter with your lip? It seems to be swollen."
"I had a turn with that fellow Dimsdale," Ezra answered, putting his hand up to his mouth to hide the disfigurement. "He followed us to the station, and we had to beat him off; but I think I left my marks upon him."
"He played some damned hokey-pokey business on me," said Burt. "He tripped me in some new-fangled way, and nigh knocked the breath out of me. I don't fall as light as I used."
"He did not succeed in tracing you?" Girdlestone asked uneasily. "There is no chance of his turning up here and spoiling the whole business?"
"Not the least," said Ezra confidently. "He was in the hands of a policeman when I saw him last."
"That is well. Now I should like, before we go further, to say a few words to Mr. Burt as to what has led up to this."
"You haven't got a drop to drink, boss?"
"Yes, yes, of course. What is that in the bottle over there? Ginger wine. How will that do?"
"Here's something better," Ezra said, rummaging in the cupboard. "Here is a bottle of Hollands. It is Mrs. Jorrocks' private store, I fancy."