these days."

Mr. Buffin did not affect to misunderstand. Sid Marks was looking at
him in that nasty way. Otto the Sausage was looking at him in that
nasty way. Rabbit Butler was looking at him in that nasty way. This was
an occasion where manly frankness was the quality most to be aimed at.
To be misunderstood in the circles in which Mr. Buffin moved meant
something more than the mere risk of being treated with cold
displeasure.

He began to explain with feverish eagerness.

"Strike me, Sid," he stammered, "it ain't like that. It's all right.
Blimey, you don't fink I'm a nark?"

Mr. Marks chewed a straw in silence.

"I'm layin' for him, Sid," babbled Mr. Buffin. "That's true. Strike me
if it ain't. I'm just tryin' to find out where he goes when he's off
duty. He pinched me, so I'm layin' for him."

Mr. Marks perpended. Rabbit Butler respectfully gave it as his opinion
that it would be well to put Mr. Buffin through it. There was nothing
like being on the safe side. By putting Mr. Buffin through it, argued
Rabbit Butler, they would stand to win either way. If he _had_
"smitched" to Officer Keating about Porky Binns he would deserve it. If
he had not--well, it would prevent him doing so on some future
occasion. Play for safety, was Mr. Butler's advice, seconded by Otto
the Sausage. Mr. Buffin, pale to the lips, thought he had never met two
more unpleasant persons.