black eyes and a porcelain smile that deceived no one.
Mrs. Granger tripped up the path and followed the burly form of her husband through the door. By this time Bindle had reached the gate.
"Want a 'and wi' the luggage, mate?" he enquired of the taxi-driver.
"Maybe yes, maybe no," was the reply.
Bindle examined the man curiously.
"You ain't a-goin' to take no risks, ole card, I can see that," he retorted with a grin. "I 'ad a mate once 'oo said that to the parson at 'is weddin', an' 'is missis is never quite sure whether she's a respectable woman or ought to be a widder. You'll 'ave to get out of that 'abit; it's as bad as stutterin'."
The taxi-driver grinned.
"I knew a cove," began Bindle, "wot"
At that moment Mr. Railton-Rogers's omnibus drew up behind the taxi, and before it had stopped Mr. Rogers bounced out, followed by his entire suite of wife, progeny, and retainers. Into the house he dashed, and as he recognised his lares and penates he uttered a howl of triumph.
The hall was dark, and he fell over a chair, which brought Mr. and Mrs. Granger out from the dining-room.
"So I've caught you," shouted Mr. Rogers triumphantly, looking up defiantly at the burly
