It was a small man, red of head and bright of eye.  He wore his cap at the back of his head, so as to exhibit to an admiring world a carefully-cultured curl of the “quiff” variety, which was plastered across his forehead with a great expenditure of grease.  His tie was a ready-made bow of shot-colours, red, green, blue and purple, and from his glittering watch-chain hung many fanciful medals, like soles upon a line.

“Brother-in-law to me,” he remarked, jerking his thumb towards the back-rushing lights of Exeter.

“Who?” I inquired.

“That young feller I was talking to just now.  Didn’t you see me talking to a young feller?”

“Oh, yes, I believe I did hear you talking to somebody.”

“Well, him.  Married a sister to me, so he’s my brother-in-law, ain’t he?”

“Certainly.”

“Well, you’re wrong then.  He’s only a half-brother-in-law, because she is only a half-sister to me, her ma marrying my old man.  Understand?”

I said I did and pulled up my rug as a signal that I was going to sleep and the conversation was at an end.

“Anyhow, whatever he is, he’s good enough for her.”

I remarked that that was most satisfactory and closed my eyes.

He drew out a yellow packet of cigarettes, selected one and held them in my direction.  I declined and again closed my eyes.

“Very good, please yourself, it’s one more for little Willie.  All I can say is that you’re foolish not taking a good fag when it don’t cost you nothing.  You don’t catch me refusing a free fag even when I don’t want to smoke.  I takes it and puts it in my cap for when I do.  Pounds I’ve saved that way, pounds and pounds.”

He lit his limp tube of paper and mystery, stamped out the match and spat deliberately on the floor.

“See me do that?”

I nodded with as much disgust as I could contrive.

“Know what them notices say I can get for that?  Fined or imprisoned.”

He paused for me to marvel at his daring.

“Think I’m mad to take risks like that, don’t cher?  Well, I aren’t neither.  They couldn’t catch me out, not they.”

He brushed some ash off his lap on to mine and winked sagely.

“Suppose the guard was to come in here and start fining and imprisoning me for it, do you know what I’d do?  I’d swear you did it.”

“But I should deny it,” I retorted hotly.

“Of course you would, old chum, and I shouldn’t blame you neither, but you wouldn’t stand no chance against me”—­he leaned forward and tapped me on the knee as though to emphasize his words—­“I could lie your life away.”

He sank back in his seat, his face aglow with conscious superiority.  The clamour of the wheels increased as if they were live things burning with the fever of some bloodthirsty hunt.

“Firing her up,” said the red man; “always racing time, these passenger wagons.  It’s a dog’s life and no blooming error.”  He prodded my foot with his.  “I said ‘it’s a dog’s life and no error.’”