and counted out the fare.

"I'll be goin' back to-night. Is there any reduction on a return
journey?"

"No, sir; 'tisn' the rule, an' us can't begin to cheapen the fee wi'
a man o' your inches."

The stranger apparently disliked levity. He stared at Boutigo,
picked up his band-box, and strode down the street without more
words.


By the red and yellow board opposite the tollhouse he paused for a
moment or two in the sunshine, as if to rehearse the speech with
which he meant to open his business. A woman passed him with a child
in her arms, and turned her head to stare. The stranger looked up
and caught her eye.

"That's Dendle's shop down the steps," she said, somewhat confused at
being caught.

"Thank you: I know."

He turned in at the doorway and began to descend. The noise of
persistent hammering echoed within the workshop at his feet.
A workman came out into the yard, carrying a plank.

"Is William Dendle here?"