Sir Evelyn did know and groaned. He had descended the hill at an unfortunate time, arriving at the Anchor Inn at one of those hours during which, no doubt to the advantage of the souls of Englishmen, the buying of a glass of beer is a breach of the law. Sir Evelyn's guardian angel, watching from on high, smiled, and no one can blame him. He would have been less and not greater than a mortal if he had not been a little amused. Here was a man who had spent his life in making laws; who had taken a pleasure in that most objectionable occupation; who had given energy and considerable ability to the discovery of new laws, if possible sillier and more vexatious than those already made. Here was this man, parched with thirst, a-quiver with jangled nerves, cut off from the only thing in the world which would do him any good, by one of the very laws which he and his fellows had made. It is true that Sir Evelyn had never been directly and personally concerned with the laws which regulate the sale of beer, but he had been responsible for others quite as idiotic. And once--the guardian angel sniggered when he remembered this--Sir Evelyn answering a tiresome questioner in Parliament, had said that he saw no reason why any of the existing laws should be repealed. Here, surely, was an instance of that poetic justice, far too rare in the world, in which all good men rejoice and which angels, guardian and others, can scarce forbear to cheer. But justice in this world is seldom perfect and even angels sometimes smile too soon. It appeared that James Hinton was no fanatical worshipper of the letter of the law. "If I might venture to make a suggestion, Sir Evelyn----" he said and paused. Sir Evelyn was surprised by the use of his name and title. He had never been in Hailey Compton before and this prompt recognition was unexpected. A man may be an ex-Cabinet Minister, may be adorned with a knighthood, may be, as Sir Evelyn was, the son of one earl, brother of another and uncle of a third, may be entitled to be styled the Honourable, besides being a knight; but he does not go about the world with a placard round his neck announcing these glories. He looked sharply at the innkeeper. James Hinton offered an apologetic explanation of his knowledge. "I sometimes had the pleasure of waiting on you, sir, when I was first footman in the service of your brother, the late earl." "What about the beer?" said Sir Evelyn. He began to feel hopeful. A retired servant is a family friend and ought to have more respect for the memory of a dead master than he has for an existing law. "If I might venture to suggest, sir----" said Hinton again. "You may suggest anything," said Sir Evelyn, "except lemonade. That, I cannot stand."