"None o' that," said the good man, advancing his face in an ugly fashion; "I 'll let yer know I 'm the caretaker. Ook it. If there was a copper in this Sahary Desert I 'd put him on yer for a twofer."
Now a "twofer" is an insignificant cigar, of which two are sold for a penny; but though Professor Higginson did not know this, he understood the general drift of the remark, and he slowly began to edge away.
"I 've a mind," said the pea-jacketed one, following him growling to the gate, "to tell Mr. Kirby."
"Mr. who?" said Professor Higginson eagerly.
"Mr. Kirby," repeated the man, sullenly. "It's his job this house is."
Professor Higginson felt in his trouser pocket and produced a florin. The caretaker took it, though it only confirmed his suspicions.
"Is that the name of the agent for this house? Could I get an order from him? I want to look for—I mean I want to get inside!"
"Yus! Yer do!" said the man. Then: "That 's the name of Mr. Kirby, and if yer 've sense yer 'll get to his orfices afore me."
