When Colonel and Mrs. Lewknor called at the Manor-house a few days later, Mrs. Trupp told them what had happened. "Burt paid her rent?" queried the Colonel. "Without her knowledge," said Mrs. Trupp. The Colonel shrugged. "I'm afraid our friend Ernie's a poor creature," he said. "Wishy-washy! That's about the long and short of it." "And yet he's got it in him!" commented Mrs. Trupp. "That's what I say," remarked Mrs. Lewknor with a touch of aggressiveness. The little lady, with the fine loyalty that was her characteristic, never forgot whose son Ernie was, nor her first meeting with him years before in hospital at Jubbulpur. "He's got plenty in him; but she don't dig it out." "He got a good fright though, this time," said Bess. "It may steady him." Mr. Trupp shot forth one of his short epigrams, solid and chunky as a blow from a hammer. "Men won't till they must," he said. "It's Must has been the making of Man. He'll try when he's got to, and not a moment before." Ten minutes later Colonel and Mrs. Lewknor were walking down Church Street towards the station. Just in front of them a woman and two men were marching a-breast. The woman was flanked by her comrades. "What a contrast those two men make," remarked the Colonel. "That feller Burt's like a bull!" "Too like," retorted Mrs. Lewknor sharply. "Give me the fellow who's like a gentleman." The Colonel shook his head. "Flame burns too feebly." "But it burns pure," snapped the little lady. Both parties had reached the foot of the hill at the Goffs when the woman in front swerved. It was the motion of the bird in flight suddenly aware of a man with a gun. She passed through the stile and fled swiftly across Saffrons Croft. The men with her, evidently taken by surprise, followed. Only the Colonel saw what had happened. A tall man, coming from the station, had turned into Alf's garage. "Royal," he said low to his companion. Captain Royal had come down to Beachbourne to see Alf Caspar, who wanted more capital for his Syndicate which was prospering amazingly. Alf, indeed, now that he had established his garages in every important centre in East Sussex, was starting a Road-touring Syndicate to exploit for visitors the hidden treasures of a country-side amazingly rich in historic memories for men of Anglo-Saxon blood. The Syndicate was to begin operations with a flourish on the Easter Bank Holiday, if the necessary licence could be obtained from the Watch Committee; and Alf anticipated little real trouble in that matter. Mrs. Trupp and her daughter, who had never forgiven Alf for being Alf, watched the growing prosperity of the Syndicate and its promoter with undisguised annoyance. "It beats me," said Bess, "why people back the little beast. Everybody knows all about him." Next day as they rode down the valley towards Birling Gap, Mr. Trupp expounded to his daughter the secret of Alf's success.