"Why?" asked the sick man.
"I'll tell you," said Mr. Baldwin. "Because that car belonged to the Duke of Mudcaster."
"The more reason," said Mr. Jenkins, "for heavy damages. Very heavy. The Duke's rolling."
"Maybe he rolls," said Mr. Baldwin. "But that is not all. Listen. The Duke of Mudcaster is the only representative of the Pennecuiks, whose founder had the good fortune to be of some service to KING WILLIAM III. For this service he and his posterity were allowed the privilege of entering places by gates marked 'Out' and leaving by gates marked 'In.'"
Mr. Jenkins sat half up, groaned and subsided again. He said nothing.
"Well, I must say good-bye now," said Mr. Baldwin. "Sorry I've depressed you about compensation, but you never had an earthly. See you again soon. So long."
For some minutes Mr. Jenkins remained as one stunned. Then he began to think again. "I wonder," he said once or twice, for he knew his partner,—"I wonder. Could it have been Baldwin himself in his old Ford? Could it?"
Old Lady (ruminating). "WHAT A POOR SUPPLY OF GAS THERE IS! AH, WELL, I MUSTN'T GRUMBLE. PERHAPS WE ARE ATTACKING WITH GAS AT THE FRONT TO-DAY."