They threaded their way through a maze of small ill-looking streets, slowly enough, for there were children all over the road; not infrequently a big dray forced them to proceed backwards. Masters noted that Christopher never expected the legitimate traffic should give way to him. They emerged at last on a crowded thoroughfare of South London, where small shops elbowed big ones and windows blazed with preposterous advertisements. There were trams too, and scarcely room for the big car between rail and pavement. Presently they stopped before a prosperous-looking grocery store. A white-aproned man rushed out with undisguised complacency to wait on the fine equipage. "I want to see Mr. Sartin if he's free," said Christopher, and waited quietly. In a minute Sam was with them, white-aproned, pencil behind ear. To Masters's amusement his companion greeted the young grocer with the familiarity of long friendship. "I heard from Jessie the other day," said Christopher when he had explained his appearance; "what about this man Cladsley? Is she going to marry him?" Sam looked down the street, a little frown on his face. "Jessie'd no business to write you. Cladsley's all right. Don't you worry about Jessie." "I'm not worrying," laughed the other, "I only wanted to be sure it was suitable and all that." "I'll look after Jessie." The words were ungracious, but Sam looked worried and uncertain. "You've done enough for us." "You old dog in the manger," persisted Christopher good-temperedly, "you'll never let me do anything for Jessie, and, after all, it was she who used to take my part when you fought me, Master Sam, and wouldn't let you bully me." Sam grinned. "Yes, it was always Jim that was in the right then. Don't you bother. Cladsley's a good sort if she would only make up her mind." "I gathered his job would be up soon and I thought I might find another for him if it's all straight with them. That's why I came to see you." Sam appeared still reluctant. "It's all beastly stuck-up pride on your part," concluded Christopher after more argument. "I expect you'll cut me next; you are getting too prosperous, Mr. Sartin." But they parted good friends, and the car re-threaded its way through the crowded streets out into a meaner, more deserted neighbourhood, till at length they emerged on a long empty straight road with small yellow brick houses on either side, as yet uninhabited. "What's the engaging young grocer's name?" asked Masters abruptly. "Sartin--Sam Sartin." "Known him long?" "We were children together." "Relations, perhaps?" "No." "Why did he call you Jim?" "I used to be Jim." "James Aston?" "No." "What then?" "I've forgotten," said Christopher very deliberately.