It was at this point that I remembered an interesting fact I had just heard about Italy's mobilisation. I could not keep it back. "Crawshaw," I appealed, "will you compromise? A sovereign each for the dinner?" "Done," said Crawshaw. "Good. I always mistrusted you. I came without a penny. Lend me a sovereign." "I'm not in this compromise," cried Chapman. "I've said all I've got to say. You'll run me in for nothing more." It was at the end of the meal that Crawshaw rose. "Thanks awfully, you fellows. There's twelve pounds twelve in the bowl. Eleven of us have given a sovereign and Chapman there, bless his generous heart, thirty-two shillings." "Crawshaw," grumbled Chapman, "I know you've a family. I know you're too old. I know you're physically disqualified. But you ought to go to the Front. Not only would it raise the spirits of the poor people you leave behind here, but your very presence in the trench with a subscription list would make the enemy run." * * * * * [Illustration: "PORTER, PORTER! STOP THE TRAIN! I'VE LEFT MY WOOL IN IT!"] * * * * * [Illustration: _Belated Reveller._ "HERE, SWITCH OFF, GOV'NOR. I'M NOT A ZELLERPIN!"] * * * * * THE REASON. He was a saturnine-looking man with a distinctly anti-social suggestion; but after a while he began to talk. We discussed one thing and another, and casually he remarked that he was connected with the motor industry--as indeed all men whom one cannot immediately place now are. He did not build cars, he said, or design them, or sell them. What then did he do? "My task is a peculiar one," he said, "and you might never guess it. It is wholly concerned with taxi-cabs. I am an inspector of taxi-cab windows." He looked at me as with a challenge. "It is your duty," I inquired, with a horrible feeling that I could not congratulate him on his efficiency, "to inspect the windows and see that they are in good order?" "To inspect the windows--yes," he replied; "but not for the purpose you name." "Then why inspect them?" I asked warmly. "What is wanted is some one to see that the wretched things can be manipulated. I would bet that out of every ten cabs I am in not more than two have windows that will work." "Two!" he mused. "That's a very high percentage. I must see to that." "High!" I exclaimed. "Yes, high," he repeated. "You see, my duty is to visit the garages all over London before the cabs go out and see that the windows won't work. If they do work I disarrange them. That's my job." "But why?" I gasped. "Haven't you noticed how much worse they have been lately, and that, when you take a cab off the rank, the windows are always down when you get in, however bad the weather?" "Yes," I said, "Everyone must have noticed it." "Well," he continued, "that's my doing. That's my job." "But why?" I repeated.