they do it. Follow it up. Anything?"

He thought a moment.

"Plaster of Paris--any sort of plaster--bung up nest--holes--you know.
That _I'd_ better get."

"How much?"

"How much what?"

"Sulphur."

"Ton. See?"

Bensington tightened his glasses with a hand tremulous with
determination. "Right," he said, very curtly.

"Money in your pocket?" asked Cossar.

"Hang cheques. They may not know you. Pay cash. Obviously. Where's your
bank? All right. Stop on the way and get forty pounds--notes and gold."

Another meditation. "If we leave this job for public officials we shall
have all Kent in tatters," said Cossar. "Now is there--anything? _No!
HI_!"

He stretched a vast hand towards a cab that became convulsively eager to
serve him ("Cab, Sir?" said the cabman. "Obviously," said Cossar); and
Bensington, still hatless, paddled down the steps and prepared to mount.