62 ANGEL PAVEMENT

day-still in the trade, y'know, can't change after thirty
years-have to stick to the trade. Goo'-bye? all." And
Goath, after removing the dent from his hat with one
fierce jab, crammed it on the back of his head and, with
a final wave of the hand, departed,

"Well, this beats me," Mr, Smeeth confessed. "I can't
make head or tail of it, I really can't."

"It looks as if that other chap is taking his place,
don't you think," said Turgis. 'Though I must say he
didn't look as if he wanted that sort of job. I mean, he
looked too smart and bossy."

"No, I don't think that's it," Mr. Smeeth told him.

"Thank the Lord, we've seen the last of Mr, Goath,
anyhow!" cried Miss Matfield fervently. "I loathed the
sight of him, he always looked so dirty and dilapidated.
I'm sure he was a rotten man to have going round call-
ing on people."

"But what if the other chap comes?" said Turgis,

grinning, "You didn't like the look of him, did you?"

. "I should think not! I never thought of that." She

groaned as she stuck another sheet of paper into the

typewriter. "What a life!"

"That's right, let's get finished. Turgis, Stanley,
come on, get a move on," said Mr. Smeeth sharply. And
down below, in Angel Pavement, now a deep narrow
pool of darkness sharply spangled with electric lights,
you could hear a little host of other people finishing for
the night, a final clatter of typewriters, a banging of
doors, the hooting of homing cars, the sound of foot-
steps hurrying up the street towards liberty.