"Well, then, you’ll be after doing us a kindness. My friend here has a specification which Mr. Jones is going to file for me, and he’ll need it copied in duplicate at once. Indeed, he’ll be mighty pleased to find it ready for him; he’s been longing to get his hand on it these many weeks, and you will not disappoint him, will you now?" "I won’t disappoint you, Mr. O’Reilly," said the girl, with a smile. She sat down at her machine, rattled away on the keys, and in twenty minutes handed to O’Reilly two clean copies of the specification. Her employer arrived on the stroke of ten. A few words from O’Reilly apprised him of the urgency of the matter, and he at once accompanied the three to the Patent Office and filed the formal application. They left the office in couples, O’Reilly going ahead with his friend. The other two noticed that O’Reilly edged away to one side quickly, leaving a gap through which came hurriedly a shambling figure in a wideawake and a long brown ulster, in one hand a large envelope, in the other his huge umbrella. "Our worthy mayor," whispered Eves, giving Templeton a nudge. Apparently Noakes had not recognised O’Reilly, but his eyes widened and his chin dropped as he came face to face with Eves and Templeton. The shock of amazement caused him to halt with a jerk, bringing him into sharp collision with an errand boy hurrying along behind him, a basket of fish upon his arm. "Here, old ’un, mind my toes," said the lad, not ill-temperedly, at the same time sticking out his elbow to ward off Noakes’s obstructing bulk. His action was as a spark to powder. With the impulse of an angry, ill-conditioned man to vent his wrath on the nearest object, Noakes swung round and brought his umbrella heavily down upon the lad’s shoulders. "I’ll learn you!" he cried, truculently. The response was unexpected. Snatching up a prime cod by the tail, the lad dashed its head full in Noakes’s face. Noakes winced at the cold, slimy contact, staggered, then lurched forward, raising his umbrella once more to strike. The lad was too quick for him. Dropping his basket, he wrenched the umbrella away, flung it into the gutter, and, squaring his shoulders, commenced that curious piston-like movement of the two arms which is the street boy’s preliminary to a sparring bout. Suddenly his right fist shot out, and planted a blow in the man’s midriff. A crowd quickly assembled. [Illustration: "THE LAD DASHED ITS HEAD FULL IN NOAKES’S FACE."] "I say, d’you know that the gentleman you are assaulting is the Mayor of Pudlington?" said Eves, stepping up to the errand boy. "Don’t care who he is. He ain’t going to hit me for nothing, not if he’s the Lord Mayor." But the sight of a burly policeman approaching from the corner of the street brought discretion. He picked up his basket and ran off, turning to give Noakes a parting salute with his thumb to his nose. *III*