“You manurial gardener——” Hinchcliffe began. I prodded him warningly from behind, and laid the other hand on Pyecroft’s stiffening knee.
“Also—on information received—drunk and disorderly in charge of a motor-car—to the common danger—two men like sailors in appearance,” the man went on.
“Like sailors! … That’s Agg’s little roose. No wonder he smiled at us,” said Pyecroft.
“I’ve been waiting for you some time,” the man concluded, folding up the telegram.
“Who’s the owner?”
I indicated myself.
“Then I want you as well as the two seafaring men. Drunk and disorderly can be treated summary. You come on.”
My relations with the Sussex constabulary have, so far, been of the best, but I could not love this person.
“Of course you have your authority to show?” I hinted.
“I’ll show it you at Linghurst,” he retorted hotly——“all the authority you want.”