stooped and examined the chain with trembling fingers. How was it
to be done? Something behind the gate seemed to flutter. The man
must be got rid of anyhow.

"I say," said Hoopdriver, with an inspiration, "can you get me a
screwdriver?"

The man simply walked across the shed, opened and shut a box, and
came up to the kneeling Hoopdriver with a screwdriver in his
hand. Hoopdriver felt himself a lost man. He took the screwdriver
with a tepid "Thanks," and incontinently had another inspiration.

"I say," he said again.

"Well?"

"This is miles too big."

The man lit the lantern, brought it up to Hoopdriver and put it
down on the ground. "Want a smaller screwdriver?" he said.

Hoopdriver had his handkerchief out and sneezed a prompt ATICHEW.
It is the orthodox thing when you wish to avoid recognition. "As
small as you have," he said, out of his pocket handkerchief.

"I ain't got none smaller than that," said the ostler.

"Won't do, really," said Hoopdriver, still wallowing in his
handkerchief.