For the first time since he was demobilised, Higgins smiled.
"By Heavens!" he said, "I'll try it. There's a little place at Croydon which would be a perfect billet. I will pay my first visit at once."
He sauntered away, proclaiming in song the satisfactory condition of rose-culture in Picardy.
Yesterday he came back.
His face was grim. There was a light in his eye which I did not like. He made no mention of roses blooming in Picardy or anywhere else.
"How is the scheme working?" I asked. "Have you called on the Croydon gentleman?"
"I have," he answered; "and when I had laid the blessed ground-bait, as you call it, he told me he always did think there was a ghost about the place, and he was delighted to have his theory confirmed. He wants more details now. He invites me to furnish evidence. What for, you ask? Well, you see, he happens to be an active member of the Society for Psychical Research."
Polite Stranger (during the busy hour on the Underground). "WON'T YOU SHARE MY HANDLE, MADAM?"