"What your marrow wanted was nourishment," said the Authority. "A piece
of worsted round its neck, with one end dipped in a jar of water."

"Excuse me," said Jones, "the very latest is to insert a tube in the
stalk, and the flavour is greatly improved if you add a little sugar to
the water. Almost like a melon."

"Do you take a card out for each marrow, or one for each plant?" asked
Dalton.

The quiet man opposite put his paper down. He was a new-comer in the
district. We liked him, although he had no sense of humour and did not
appreciate Dalton's jokes. He appeared to be interested only in the
startling and the odd.

"That reminds me," he said, "of a most extraordinary experience I had a
few days ago. Of course you all know Enderby?"

None of us knew Enderby, but we I did not like to say so. The quiet
man's anxiety was painful. We felt he could not go on with his story
unless someone knew Enderby.

"He has a little place round at the back of the Common--quite a nice
little place." Freath--that was the quiet man's name--looked at us
reproachfully.

"I think I know Enderby," said Dalton. "Isn't he a heavily-built man
about fifty, with a grey moustache?"