Neddy got out of the car, but he did not forget his faithful flask. He
offered it to the Sergeant in token of approval. "Good place, Sergeant,"
he said; "does credit to you, as a beginner. Here, mate, hold on, though.
It's evident you ain't accustomed to liquor glasses!"

"When I sits up so late, I gets a kind of a sinking," the Sergeant
explained apologetically.

Mike flashed a torch on him for a minute; there was a very uncomfortable
look in his little squinty eyes. "Sergeant," he said suavely but
gravely, "my friend here relies on you. He's not a safe man to
disappoint." He shifted the light suddenly on to Neddy, whose
proportions seemed to loom out prodigious from the surrounding darkness.
"Are you, Neddy?"

"No, I'm a sensitive chap, I am," said Neddy, smiling. "Don't you go and
hurt my pride in you by any sign of weakness, Sergeant."

The Sergeant shivered a little. "I'm game. I'll stick it," he protested
valorously.

"You'd better!" Neddy advised.

"All quiet at the Cottage as you came by?" asked Mike.

"Quiet as the grave, for what I see," the Sergeant answered.

"All right. Mike, where are them sandwiches? I feel like a bite. One for
the Sergeant too! But no more flask--no, you don't Sergeant! When'll we