Mr. Polsworthy declared his satisfaction, and hinted at surprise, on finding that George possessed so much acuteness. He did, in a general way, prefer to work alone, but sometimes cases were encountered—here was one—where assistance was indispensable. The great thing was to have a quiet half-hour inside the vicarage, and to catch the 10.23 p.m. for town. George nodded, and made one or two suggestions. Recommended a sailor’s bag; there were two in the cloakroom at the present time left by men home on furlough; one could be emptied. Mr. Polsworthy, having inspected these, made his selection and, arranging concerning the loan of an old uniform, shook hands. The kit-bag was presented to George, who said he might be able to make use of it. “All I can say is,” remarked the man from London, “that I’m very much obliged to you. You shan’t be the loser.” “Question is,” said George, “how much be I going to gain? I ain’t what you’d call mercenary, but I like to make a bit of money as well as anybody.” Mr. Polsworthy seemed hurt by this view of the matter, and taking half a sovereign from his pocket, placed it in the other’s hand; George said he could go on. Polsworthy went on to the extent of four pounds and then stopped, declaring irascibly that rather than go beyond this amount he would take the entire sum back; George pointed out difficulties, one of which included a reference to Police-Constable Saxby. The amount reached five pounds, and the two again shook hands; the heartiness was this time on the side of George. “If you have a chance of seeing her,” said Polsworthy, “keep up the idea that it’s simply and solely a love affair. It’ll make a good excuse in case I happen to be interrupted at my work. Mention that I seem to be able to talk of nothing else but her!” “And that you worship the very ground she walks on.” “Don’t overdo it. You can say it’s all because of love that I’m going to dress up and come and see her. Say that from what you know of me I’m as true as gold.” “As true as five pound.” “For Heaven’s sake,” urged Polsworthy, with some temper, “do try to avoid making a muddle. If the business goes wrong, I’ll dog your footsteps to the very last day of your life. If I get into trouble I shan’t be alone. Make no mistake about that. Where’s that slip of paper that you wrote down the particulars on?” It was produced, and the man from London, with a snatch, secured it. “Now,” he remarked, “now, I’ve got documentary evidence that you’re concerned in this game.” “My mother won’t like me none the better for this,” said George, dismally. “But I’ll go up to the vicarage again, and give the young party your message.”