Neddy paid this pleasantry the tribute of a laugh, but he had one more
business question to ask:

"Where are we to stow the car? How far off?"

"The Sergeant has picked out a big clump of trees, a hundred yards from
the cottage on the Sprotsfield side, and about thirty yards from the
road. Pretty clear going to it, bar the bracken--she'll do it easily.
There she'll lie, snug as you like. As we go by Sprotsfield, the car
won't have to pass the Cottage at all--that's an advantage--and yet it's
not over far to carry the stuff."

"Sounds all right," said Neddy placidly, and with a yawn. "Have a drop?"

"No, I won't--and I wish you wouldn't, Neddy. It makes you bad-tempered,
and a man doesn't want to be bad-tempered on these jobs."

"Take the wheel a second while I have a drop," said Neddy, just for all
the world as if his friend had not spoken. He unscrewed the top of a
large flask and took a very considerable "drop." It was only after he had
done this with great deliberation that he observed good-naturedly, "And
you go to hell, Mike! It's dark, ain't it? That's a bit of all right."

He did not speak again till they were near Sprotsfield. "This
Beaumaroy--queer name, ain't it?--he's a big chap, ain't he, Mike?"

"Pretty fair, but, Lord love you, a baby beside yourself."

"Well, now, you told me something the Sergeant said about a man as
was (Neddy, unlike his friend, occasionally tripped in his English)