"Yes," said Mr. Bascombe with a chuckle. "I've been watching 'em go by. Very handy lot o' chaps they looked." He was silent for a moment, then suddenly an idea—a terrific; dazzling idea—flooded his imagination. "Can you let me have a carriage?" he inquired.
"Why, c-certainly, sir. How far are you thinking of going?"
Mr. Bascombe puffed thoughtfully at his cigar.
"I want to go and see the Governor of Princetown. He's a pal o' mine, old Marshall is. He'd be cut up something horrid if he heard I'd gone away without looking him up."
At the mention of Colonel Marshall's name the landlord's respect for his unconventional visitor visibly increased.
"I'll s-s-send out and order the victoria at once, sir," he said. "It's only about half a mile to the Governor's house, but I expect you've had enough walking for to-day."
"You're right," said Mr. Bascombe. "Driving's more my mark this afternoon."
"And w-what train shall we meet your luggage by, sir? The six-thirty?"
This seemed as good a train as any other to the owner of this imaginary encumbrance, so he nodded his head.
"Tell 'em to be careful with it, won't you?" he added.