"Out with it."

"Walls have ears," said Pillingshot.

"So have you," replied Scott crisply, "and I'll smite them in half a
second."

Pillingshot sighed resignedly, and produced an envelope. From this he
poured some dried mud.

"Here, steady on with my table-cloth," said Scott. "What's this?"

"Mud."

"What about it?"

"Where do you think it came from?"

"How should I know? Road, I suppose."

Pillingshot smiled faintly.

"Eighteen different kinds of mud about here," he said patronisingly.
"This is flower-bed mud from the house front-garden."

"Well? What about it?"

"Sh--h--h!" said Pillingshot, and glided out of the room.

* * * * *