"
Hewitt reached for his hat. "I'm going out for half an hour now," he said.
"If Steggles wants to go out before I come back, don't let him. Let him go
and smooth over all those tracks on the cinder-path, very carefully. And,
by the by, could you manage to have your son about the place to-day, in
case I happen to want a little help out of doors?"
"Certainly; I'll get him to stay in. But what do you want the cinders
smoothed for?"
Hewitt smiled, and patted his host's shoulder. "I'll explain all my tricks
when the job's done," he said, and went out.
* * * * *
On the lane from Padfield to Sedby village stood the Plough beer-house,
wherein J. Webb was licensed to sell by retail beer to be consumed on the
premises or off, as the thirsty list. Nancy Webb, with a very fine color,
a very curly fringe, and a wide smiling mouth revealing a fine set of
teeth, came to the bar at the summons of a stoutish old gentleman in
spectacles who walked with a stick.
The stoutish old gentleman had a glass of bitter beer, and then said in
the peculiarly quiet voice of a very deaf man: "Can you tell me, if you
please, the way into the main Catton road?"
"Down the lane, turn to the right at the cross-roads, then first to the
left.
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