‘Childs-play,’ said Major Byles, ‘that’s what this problem is. It is required to offer a half-crown for a threepenny bus-fare, and to receive the change wholly in threepenny-bits. And you’re not allowed to give the conductor anything or promise him anything as an inducement to let you have the nine threepennies. It’s my belief that you’d only have to ask in a civil way, and any conductor would do it for you. A more obliging set of men than the London bus-conductors couldn’t be found, except, perhaps, the London police. I don’t call it a problem at all. You’ll all win, of course, and that will mean a comfortable tenner for every member of the club except myself—just because I’m stuck up here in the chair. It’s scandalous.’ He snipped the end of a cigar ferociously, and lit it as if he took pleasure in its destruction—which, indeed, may have been the case. ‘However, I must do my duty, and I’ll call on my reverend friend, Mr Cunliffe, to tell us what he has done about it.’ ‘My story is a sad one,’ said the Rev. Septimus Cunliffe. ‘It leads me to believe that our chairman has over-estimated the amiability of the conductors and underestimated the difficulty of the problem. I gave a half-crown for a threepenny fare, and told the man that it would be a great kindness if he could let me have my change in threepenny pieces. He never said a word, but handed me a florin and three coppers. ‘“Did you hear what I asked you?” I said to him. ‘“Oh, yes,” he said, “I heard. If you want all them threepennies, you’d better get them out of the blanky offertory-bag next Sunday!”’ ‘Extraordinary,’ said the chairman. ‘Something must have occurred to ruffle the man’s temper. Did you find any difficulty, Bunford?’ ‘I failed absolutely,’ said Sir Charles Bunford. ‘No doubt I made a mistake in putting my request during the busy hour of the morning. The conductor looked resigned but sardonic. ‘“Want it all in threepennies, do you?” he said. “Would you like them of any particular year?” ‘I said that the date was immaterial. Any year would do. ‘“That’s all right,” he said. “Then you can wait for next year’s.” And he gave me a shilling, a sixpence, and ninepence in what is generally described at the inquest as bronze.’ ‘Of course,’ said the chairman, ‘it was a mistake to bother the man when he was busy. And a little tact is wanted. If I’d been in for this competition myself I shouldn’t just have asked for my change in threepennies, I should have given some plausible reason for wanting it.’ ‘With great respect, sir,’ said Mr Quillian, ‘I must differ from you. I had the same idea and tried it. I told the conductor that I had a bet that I would get my change entirely in threepennies. I thought it would appeal to his sporting instinct. All he said was, “You’ve lost, then,” and gave me the change without as much as one threepenny in it. Seemed rather pleased about it, too.’