“‘Why,’ said one, ‘are you—’
“‘There,’ said I, ‘we don’t mention names in our trade. You’ll learn that when you grow older, and you’ll learn to be punctual too,’ I added, testily.
“The men looked half abashed.
“‘We were here at eight,’ they said.
“‘No, you were not. I was here at eight to the minute, and I had time to fall asleep, as you see, before you came. But never mind that. You know what business is on foot, I suppose?’
“‘Yes, I had it all from—’
“‘Hush! no names, you dolt; what did I tell you before?’
“The men were perfectly sheepish now, and I began to breathe again. It was well I had been described in the letter as a ‘queer dog,’ for it is an easy part to act, even to save one’s own life. Besides, this would account sufficiently well for my unbusinesslike attire.
“My great fear was lest the real person referred to in the letter should arrive on the scene before I had quitted it. I therefore ordered an immediate departure.
“‘We’ve lost an hour already with your dilatoriness,’ I growled; ‘don’t let us lose any more. As it is, it is a chance if we reach Culverton before morning. Come, lead out my horse, and bring what food you have with you, for I’m starving.’