"Jay? There's plenty of them about here. They're in every day, pulling the stuff about—tons of 'em."
"Almost as plentiful as whiskers, I suppose," said Mole. "Got a man here name o' Bray?"
The ragged salesman had turned to a small desk, and was poring deeply over a long order sheet marked "To-day certain" in bold writing.
"What d'yer think of that?" said Mole, producing a long cigar, and putting it on the desk. "Try it after dinner."
The man examined it closely and at a distance.
"Name o' Bray you said, didn't you?"
"Bray," said Mole.
"Don' know 'im," said the man. "No Bray here. It wouldn't be Wilkinson, I s'pose?"
Mole intimated with some heat that it was as likely to be Sasselovitch as Wilkinson.
"Bray, Bray, Bray. Don't mean Gray, do you?" said the man.