"Not so well as I should if you were sitting down." So he sat down, where he could not see her: and the caravan went on. Although for a vehicle of its sort it was of light construction, it still was cumbrous. The rate of progression was not fast; evidently the mare had her own idea of how fast it ought to be. Perhaps it was because she was such a sleek and well-fed animal that she objected to being pressed. One could not but feel that, when she hauled that house on wheels, with Mr Frazer at the reins, she was used to going as she pleased; that it was she who set the pace, not the driver and that the pace she preferred was a walking pace, of about five miles an hour. When she discovered, as she presently did, that, on that occasion, she was desired to go a little faster, she evinced her resentment in a fashion which was unmistakable. Occasionally Mr Frazer induced her to break into what was really a bad imitation of a trot; at the end of perhaps a hundred yards she would relapse into a walk, with an air which suggested that she had been forced to gallop a mile; and as it was plain that, where she was concerned, her driver could not bring himself to use strong measures and equally plain that the creature knew it, before they had gone very far the vehicle was being drawn along the highroad at a rate which suited the mare, if it suited no one else. They had been moving a good hour, and had covered perhaps six or seven miles, when a man, who was again of the gipsy class, came trotting towards them, sitting on a bare-backed beast, which, although it might have been exhibited as a living skeleton, could have given the well-fed mare many points in the matter of speed. He glanced keenly at the caravan; as soon as he had passed on one side he stopped, turned his horse, and came back on the other, until he found himself abreast with Mr Frazer. Stooping over he addressed him in a husky undertone. "I say, governor, are you going to Timberham?" "It is possible that I may get there, in time." "Is your name Frazer?" "Right; what's yours?" "Never mind what mine is. If you take my advice you'll give Timberham as wide a berth as ever you can." "Why?" The husky undertone became still huskier: "The cops are looking out for you. Don't ask me how I know--ask no questions and you'll hear no lies--but I do know. I don't know what they want you for--I don't want to know--but they've got the office to look out for a yellow van, with black stripes and red wheels, driven by a party named Frazer, who's got a girl with him; I expect that's her looking out of the window."