"Most men are as blind as bats," continued the barmaid, and the examples she gave from her own experience led to an absorbing conversation, which was presently interrupted by the shriek of the swing door. The new-comer was a small, fair man with a neatly waxed moustache. He came up to the counter with the air of an habitué, and remarked, "Hallo! where's Cis? You're new here, aren't you?" The barmaid, recognizing the marks of a regular customer, quietly admitted that this was only her second day at the "Dun Taw." "I've been away for two months," explained the fair man, and ordered "Scotch." He was evidently in the mood for company, for he brought up a stool and, sitting a little way back from the bar, he began to address his three hearers at large. "Only came back from Europe this evening," he said, "and glad to be home, I assure you." He raised his left hand with a gesture intended to convey horror, and drank half his whisky at a gulp. Dicky turned to give his serious attention to the narrative which was plainly to follow, and somewhat ostentatiously observed the details of the new-comer's dress. Dicky had a new-found reputation to maintain. His friend looked bored and a little sulky, and tried to continue his conversation with the barmaid, but that young woman, appreciating the difference in value between a casual and a regular customer, passed a broad hint by with a smile and said: "Europe? Just fancy!" "It's a place to get out of, I assure you," said the fair man. "I've been over there for two months--Germany and Austria chiefly--but for the last fortnight I've been wasting my time. There's nothing doing." "Isn't there?" commented Dicky with great seriousness. "Oh, we're sick to death of this bally plague," put in the other young man quickly. "There's been simply nothing else in the papers for the last I don't know how long. I want to forget it." The fair man reached forward and put down his empty glass on the bar counter. "Same again, Miss," he said, and then: "We'll all be more sick of the plague before we've finished with it. It's a terror. If I was to tell you a few of the things I've seen in the past fortnight, I don't suppose you'd believe me." "That's all right; I'd believe you quick enough," returned the young man. "Point is, what's the good of getting yourself in a funk about it? Personally I don't believe it's coming to England. If it was it would have been here before this. What I say is ..." His pronouncement of opinion ceased abruptly. The fair man's behaviour riveted attention. He was gazing past the barmaid at the orderly rows of shining glasses and various shaped bottles behind her. His mouth was open. He gazed intensely, horribly. The barmaid backed nervously and looked over her shoulder. The two young men hastily rose and pushed back their stools. The same thought was in all their minds. This neat, fair man was on the verge of delirium tremens.