Fortune favoured the man from Leytonstone before the couple had gone the whole length of the street. Busby placed his heel upon some slippery substance, and cleaved at the air with his hands. He regained his balance and uttered a most emphatic "Damn!"
A second later he was looking into the stern, relentless eye of James Gray.
"I was nearly over," said Busby, easily, recognizing his colleague. "Those fools who throw orange-peel on the pavement ought to be prosecuted. Mind you don't step on it."
Gray said nothing, but kept a piercing eye on the face of the cashier.
"Do you want me?" said Busby, "or are you coming my way? Don't stand there looking like that."
Gray took Busby's arm in a vice-like grip. "I heard it," he said, solemnly.
"Heard it?" said Busby.
"I was close behind," said Gray. "You didn't know it, but I was there."
Busby misunderstood. "I wish you'd been in front," he said, "then perhaps you'd have found the orange-peel first. I was as near as a touch going over. When you've quite done with my arm I'll have it for personal use."
"Don't try to fool me," said Gray, sternly, without relaxing his hold. "I know what I heard, and you know what I heard."