It was a policeman in a very excited frame of mind.
"What did that bloke up the road say to you?" he began; and Travers minor, remembering what contempt the great spy had for policemen, was rather haughty.
"Our conversation was private," he answered, and the policeman seemed inclined to laugh.
"I know what your conversation was, very well," he answered. "Soapy William wouldn't tire himself talking to you kids for fun. Did you give him any money?"
In this insolent way the policeman dared to talk of Baden-Powell's brother!
"His name is not Soapy William," answered Travers, who had turned red with anger, "and he's got no use for policemen, anyway."
"No, you take your dying oath he hasn't," said the policeman. "If he told you that, he's broke the record and told you the truth. Did you give him money, or only a fag?'
"We lent him money for a private purpose, and I'll thank you to let us pass," said Travers minor.
But the policeman wouldn't.
"He's as slippery as an eel," he said, "and I've been waiting to cop him red-'anded for a fortnight. So now you'd better come and overtake him, for he's lame and can only crawl along. And when I talk to him, you'll be surprised."