"Prompt," said Bechamel, appreciatively. "Now here's the thing I
want to put to you--the kernel of the whole business. You need
not answer if you don't want to. There's no harm done in my
telling you what I want to know. Are you employed to watch me--or
Miss Milton?"

"I'm not the leaky sort," said Mr. Hoopdriver, keeping the secret
he did not know with immense enjoyment. Miss Milton! That was her
name. Perhaps he'd tell some more. "It's no good pumping. Is that
all you're after?" said Mr. Hoopdriver.

Bechamel respected himself for his diplomatic gifts. He tried to
catch a remark by throwing out a confidence. "I take it there are
two people concerned in watching this affair."

"Who's the other?" said Mr. Hoopdriver, calmly, but controlling
with enormous internal tension his selfappreciation. "Who's the
other?" was really brilliant, he thought.

"There's my wife and HER stepmother."

"And you want to know which it is?"

"Yes," said Bechamel.

"Well--arst 'em!" said Mr. Hoopdriver, his exultation getting the
better of him, and with a pretty consciousness of repartee. "Arst
'em both."