We packed into the car, bearing our sheaves with us, and for half an hour, as the cool night-air fanned his thoughtful brow, Mr. Wontner was quite abreast of himself. Though he said nothing unworthy, he triumphed and trumpeted a little loudly over the sacks. I sat between them on the back seat, and applauded him servilely till he reminded me that what I had seen and what he had said was not for publication. I hinted, while the boys plunged with joy inside their trappings, that this might be a matter for arrangement. 'Then a sovereign shan't part us,' said Mr. Wontner cheerily, and both boys fell into lively hysterics. 'I don't see where the joke comes in for you,' said Mr. Wontner. 'I thought it was my little jokelet to-night.' 'No, Clausewitz,' gasped Bobby. 'Some is, but not all. I'll be good now. I'll give you my parole till we get to Mess. I wouldn't be out of this for a fiver.' 'Nor me,' said Eames, and he gave his parole to attempt no escape or evasion. 'Now, I suppose,' said Mr. Wontner largely to Stalky, as we neared the suburbs of Ash, 'you have a good deal of practical joking on the Stock Exchange, haven't you?' 'And when were you on the Stock Exchange, Uncle Leonard?' piped Bobby, while Eames laid his sobbing head on my shoulder. 'I'm sorry,' said Stalky, 'but the fact is, I command a regiment myself when I'm at home. Your Colonel knows me, I think.' He gave his name. Mr. Wontner seemed to have heard of it. We had to pick Eames off the floor, where he had cast himself from excess of delight. 'Oh, Heavens!' said Mr. Wontner after a long pause. 'What have I done? What haven't I done?' We felt the temperature in the car rise as he blushed. 'You didn't talk tactics, Clausewitz?' said Bobby. 'Oh, say it wasn't tactics, darling!' 'It was,' said Wontner. Eames was all among our feet again, crying, 'If you don't let me get my arms up, I'll be sick. Let's hear what you said. Tell us.' But Mr. Wontner turned to Stalky. 'It's no good my begging your pardon, sir, I suppose,' he said. 'Don't you notice 'em,' said Stalky. 'It was a fair rag all round, and anyhow, you two youngsters haven't any right to talk tactics. You've been rolled up, horse, foot, and guns.' 'I'll make a treaty. If you'll let us go and change presently,' said Bobby, 'I'll promise we won't tell about you, Clausewitz. _You_ talked tactics to Uncle Len? Old Dhurrah-bags will like that. He don't love you, Claus.' 'If I've made one ass of myself, I shall take extra care to make asses of you!' said Wontner. 'I want to stop, please, at the next milliner's shop on the right. It ought to be close here.' He evidently knew the country even in the dark, for the car stopped at a brilliantly-lighted millinery establishment, where--it was Saturday evening--a young lady was clearing up the counter. I followed him, as a good reporter should.