It is not hard to believe that this remark, apparently so irrelevant, did little to calm an already excited situation. The driver loosed his hold upon the reins, seized his whip and slashed it at Cranbourne's head. Cranbourne caught the whistling thong and tugged hard, with the result that the driver, who held on to the butt, lost his balance, pitched forward on to the flank of the nearside dray horse and rolled harmlessly on to the road. Cranbourne embraced the opportunity to get out, seized the bit rings of both horses and backed them away from the debris of the taxi.
Meanwhile the driver picked himself up and removed his coat as a proper preliminary to engagement.
"Put 'em up," he invited Cranbourne. "Put 'um up, you——" but the descriptive titles he employed do not affect the narrative.
Cranbourne shook his head and tugged a note case from his pocket.
"Five pounds," he said, "if you answer my question. Where did you get it?"
The driver exhibited some sample upper cuts and left hooks and beseeched Cranbourne to guard himself. But Cranbourne detached a fiver from its fellows and extended it temptingly.
"Don't you see I'm in earnest, man?"
The tone of his voice had a sobering effect and the amateur pugilist ceased manoeuvring.
"Why do you want to know?" he demanded.
"Never mind that—take the money and tell me."