Our path lay across the warren, which undulates in little hillocks. The sun
was down by this time, blue shadows were stretching round us, colder in the
splendid contrast of the burnished sunset sky.

Descending over these hillocks we saw three figures a little in advance of
us, not far from the path we were tracing. Two were standing smoking and
chatting at intervals: one tall and slim, with a high chimney-pot, worn a
little on one side, and a white great-coat buttoned up to the chin; the
other shorter and stouter, with a dark-coloured wrapper. These gentlemen
were facing rather our way as we came over the edge of the eminence, but
turned their backs on perceiving our approach. As they did so, I remember
so well each lowered his cigar suddenly with the simultaneousness of a
drill. The third figure sustained the picnic character of the group, for he
was repacking a hamper. He stood suddenly erect as we drew near, and a very
ill-looking person he was, low-browed, square-chinned, and with a broad,
broken nose. He wore gaiters, and was a little bandy, very broad, and had
a closely-cropped bullet head, and deep-set little eyes. The moment I saw
him, I beheld the living type of the burglars and bruisers whom I had so
often beheld with a kind of scepticism in _Punch_. He stood over his hamper
and scowled sharply at us for a moment; then with the point of his foot he
jerked a little fur cap that lay on the ground into his hand, drew it tight
over his lowering brows, and called to his companions, just as we passed
him--'Hallo! mister. How's this?'

'All right,' said the tall person in the white great-coat, who, as he
answered, shook his shorter companion by the arm, I thought angrily.

This shorter companion turned about. He had a muffler loose about his neck
and chin. I thought he seemed shy and irresolute, and the tall man gave him