"Good tenants!" cried the old man explosively.
"Quiet!" said Pariset, touching him on the sleeve. "Don't tell him they are Germans."
"Ah! You are right, monsieur. But my blood boils. You are going to the mill?" he asked the drayman.
"Yes. 'Tis only a small barrel to-day--not the big one they usually have. There aren't so many of them, seemingly. I was just loading up the usual nine gallons when the order came from the office to take a four-and-a-half instead."
Pariset glanced quickly at Kenneth.
"They're going to clear out soon," he said in a low tone. "It looks as though we're only just in time."
They drew aside from the others while the miller gossiped with the drayman.
"I say, you talked of disguising yourself," said Kenneth. "Why shouldn't you take the drayman's place and deliver the beer? You could then take stock of the place and the people."
"A capital notion! I must take the drayman into my confidence. Wait a minute," he called out of the window, as the man was about to drive on. In a few words he explained the plan to the miller.
"Parbleu, monsieur, but look at his size!" said the old man.