Grant had just come into sight at its foot.
Both men scowled at the distant figure, but neither passed any comment.
They parted, the policeman walking straight on, Elkin bearing to the
left. The chemist's shop stood exactly opposite the post office, so
Elkin, arriving first, was aware of his unconscious rival's destination.
He had not answered Mr. Siddle's greeting, but gazed moodily through a
barricade of specifics piled in the window. Then he swore.
"What's wrong now?" inquired the chemist quietly.
"That Grant. Got a nerve, hasn't he?"
"I can't say, unless you explain."
"He's just gone into the post office."
"Why shouldn't he? He wants stamps, may be; plenty of 'em, I
should imagine."
"Oh, you're a fish, Siddle. You aren't crazy about a girl, like I am. The
sooner Grant's in jail the better I'll be pleased."
"If you take my advice, which you won't, I know, you will not utter that
sort of remark publicly."
"Can't help it. Bet you a fiver I'm engaged to Doris Martin within a
week."
Mr. Siddle took thought.
"Why so quickly?" he asked, after a pause.
"I'll catch her on the hop, of course. If she's engaged to me it'll help
her a lot when this case comes into court.
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