" . . . and eightpence.”

“My account with Mr. Uk . . .”

" . . . settle . . .”

“I represent Bodger . . .”

A diversion occurred at this point.  Charlie, who had long been eyeing Beale sourly, dashed at him with swinging fists, and was knocked down again.  The whole trend of the meeting altered once more, Conciliation became a drug.  Violence was what the public wanted.  Beale had three fights in rapid succession.  I was helpless.  Instinct prompted me to join the fray; but prudence told me that such a course would be fatal.

At last, in a lull, I managed to catch the Hired Retainer by the arm, as he drew back from the prostrate form of his latest victim.  “Drop it, Beale,” I whispered hotly, “drop it.  We shall never manage these people if you knock them about.  Go indoors, and stay there while I talk to them.”

“Mr. Garnet, sir,” said he, the light of battle dying out of his eyes, “it’s ’ard.  It’s cruel ’ard.  I ain’t ’ad a turn-up, not to call a turn-up, since I’ve been a time-expired man.  I ain’t hitting of ’em, Mr. Garnet, sir, not hard I ain’t.  That there first one of ’em he played me dirty, hittin’ at me when I wasn’t looking.  They can’t say as I started it.”

“That’s all right, Beale,” I said soothingly.  “I know it wasn’t your fault, and I know it’s hard on you to have to stop, but I wish you would go indoors.  I must talk to these men, and we shan’t have a moment’s peace while you’re here.  Cut along.”

“Very well, sir.  But it’s ’ard.  Mayn’t I ’ave just one go at that Charlie, Mr. Garnet?” he asked wistfully.

“No, no.  Go in.”

“And if they goes for you, sir, and tries to wipe the face off you?”

“They won’t, they won’t.  If they do, I’ll shout for you.”

He went reluctantly into the house, and I turned again to my audience.

“If you will kindly be quiet for a moment—­” I said.

“I am Appleby, Mr. Garnet, in the High Street.  Mr. Ukridge—­”

“Eighteen pounds fourteen shillings—­”

“Kindly glance—­”

I waved my hands wildly above my head.

“Stop! stop! stop!” I shouted.

The babble continued, but diminished gradually in volume.  Through the trees, as I waited, I caught a glimpse of the sea.  I wished I was out on the Cob, where beyond these voices there was peace.  My head was beginning to ache, and I felt faint for want of food.

“Gentlemen,” I cried, as the noise died away.

The latch of the gate clicked.  I looked up, and saw a tall thin young man in a frock coat and silk hat enter the garden.  It was the first time I had seen the costume in the country.

He approached me.

“Mr. Ukridge, sir?” he said.

“My name is Garnet.  Mr. Ukridge is away at the moment.”

“I come from Whiteley’s, Mr. Garnet.  Our Mr. Blenkinsop having written on several occasions to Mr. Ukridge calling his attention to the fact that his account has been allowed to mount to a considerable figure, and having received no satisfactory reply, desired me to visit him.  I am sorry that he is not at home.”