We thought it very strange and we said so.

"But the strangest part has yet to come. Of course they had to keep it
quiet--bottle it up, so to speak, from the old gentleman, and let the
marrows down gradually. But when the marrows were once more on a
temperance _régime_ the most extraordinary thing happened." The train
was running into Finsbury Park. Freath rose and collected his things.

We stared at him, fascinated.

"Enderby took me into the garden to see it. He said it had been going on
for the last week. From all directions, rioting across the flower-beds,
the lawn, down the paths, the marrows were growing towards the
wine-cellar at the rate of twelve feet a day."

Freath hastily left the carriage and jumped into the Broad Street train.

While we were discussing the story the voice of authority spoke: "The
whole thing's a tissue of falsehood. There's no such man as Enderby."

"But Dalton knows him," we said.

"I don't know Enderby," said Dalton. "But I wanted to hear the story."

* * * * *

AT THE PLAY.

"THE PACIFISTS."