“I don’t insist on anything,” snapped Mrs Polsue.  “I only say, first, there’s a mystery here, and you can’t deny it.  Secondly, we’re at war,—­you’ll agree to that, I hope?  That being so, it’s everybody’s business to take precautions and inform the authorities of anything that looks suspicious.  The more it turns out to be smoke without fire, the more obliged the man ought to be to us for giving him the chance to clear his character.”

“Well, I hope you won’t start obliging me in that way,” Miss Oliver was ever slow at following logic.  “Because I never put a shilling into a lottery in my life, though I’ve more than once been in two minds.  But in those days Germany always seemed so far off, and their way of counting money in what they call Marks always struck me as so unnatural.  Marks was what you used to get at school—­like sherbet and such things.”

“Charity Oliver—­may the Lord forgive me, but sometimes I’m tempted to think you no better than a fool!”

“The Vicar doesn’t think so,” responded Miss Oliver complacently.  “He called this morning to ask me if I’d add to my public duties by allowing him to nominate me on the Relief Committee, which wants strengthening.”

“Did he say that?” Mrs Polsue sat bolt erect.

“Well, I won’t swear to the words. . . .  Let me see.  No, his actual words were that it wanted a little new blood to give it tact.  I will say that Mr Steele has a very happy way of putting things. . . .  So you really are going to lay information, Mary-Martha?  If you see your duty so clear, I can’t think why you troubled to consult me.”

“I shall do my duty,” declared Mrs Polsue.  “Without taking further responsibility, I shall certainly put Rat-it-all on the look-out.”

That same evening, a little before sunset, Nicky-Nan took a stroll along the cliff-path towards his devastated holding, to see what progress the military had made with their excavations.  The trench, though approaching his boundary fence, had not yet reached it.  Somewhat to his surprise he found Mr Latter there, in the very middle of his patch, examining the turned earth to right and left.

“Hullo!” cried Nicky-Nan, unsuspecting. “You caught the war-fever too?  I never met ’ee so far afield afore.  What with your sedentary figure an’ the contempt I’ve heard ’ee use about soldiers—­”

Mr Latter, as he straightened himself up, appeared to be confused.  He was also red in the face, and breathed heavily.  Nicky-Nan noted, but innocently misread, these symptoms.

“Good friable soil you got here,” said Mr Latter, recovering a measure of self-possession.  “Pretty profitable little patch, unless I’m mistaken.”

“It was,” answered Nicky.  “But though, from your habits, you’re about the last man I’d have counted on findin’ hereabouts, I’m main glad, as it happens.  A superstitious person might go so far as to say you’d dropped from heaven.”