3a, Green Street was Dunstable's home address.
At this juncture the Watson-Dunstable correspondence ceases, and the relations become more personal.
On the afternoon of the twenty-third of the month, Mr. Watson, taking a meditative stroll through the wood which formed part of his property, was infuriated by the sight of a boy.
He was not a man who was fond of boys even in their proper place, and the sight of one in the middle of his wood, prancing lightly about among the nesting pheasants, stirred his never too placid mind to its depths.
He shouted.
The apparition paused.
"Here! Hi! you boy!"
"Sir?" said the stripling, with a winning smile, lifting his cap with the air of a D'Orsay.
"What business have you in my wood?"
"Not business," corrected the visitor, "pleasure."