“Hello, Robinson!” he cried cheerfully. “What’s the rush? Surely our rural peace has not been disturbed again?”
Robinson knew he had been “sold,” but rose to the occasion.
“Excuse me, Mr. Grant,” he puffed. “Can’t wait now. Have an appointment. I’ll see you later.”
Honor demanded that he should not relax that swift pace. Unhappily, the path up the cliff was visible throughout from Grant’s rock, so, on reaching the summit, Robinson was a-boil in more ways than one. Moreover, peeping through the first screen of trees that offered, he had the mortification of seeing the man who had befooled him go back the way he came.
Purple-faced with heat and anger, the policeman forgot his surroundings, and glowered at Grant with real fury. So he heard no one approaching along the main road until he was hailed a second time with, “Hello, Robinson!”
He turned sharply. This was Mr. Elkin.
“Good morning!” he said. “Have you seen the superintendent?”
“What? Mr. Fowler? No. Is he here so early?”
“I must have missed him.”
“Well, you’ll hardly find him on Bush Walk,” which was the name of the path.