66 ANGEL PAVEMENT

Smeeth first visited the shop, years ago, he was at once
startled and amused by this absence of tie, jumping to
the conclusion that the man had forgotten his tie. Now,
he would have been far more startled to see Benenden
with a tie. He had often been tempted to ask the chap
why he wore these formal collars and fronts and yet no
tie, but somehow he had never dared. Benenden him-
self, though he was ready to talk on many subjects, never
mentioned ties. Either he deliberately ignored them or
he had never noticed the part these things were now
playing in the world, simply did not understand about
ties. What he did like to talk about, perhaps because
his shop was in the City, was finance, a sort of Arabian
Nights finance. He sat there behind his counter, steadily
smoking his stock away, and peered at old copies of
financial periodicals or the City news of ordinary
papers, and out of this reading, and the bits of gossip
he heard, and the grandiose muddle of his own mind,
he concocted the most astonishing talk. It was difficult
to buy an ounce of tobacco from him without his
making you feel that the pair of you had just missed a
fortune.

As soon as he recognised Mr. Smeeth, T. Benenden
very deliberately pulled down his scales and then placed
on the counter the particular dirty old canister set apart
for his own mixture, "The usual, I suppose, Mr.
Smeeth?" he said, picking up the pouch and then
smoothing it out on the counter, "I saw your chief
this morning, the young fellow—Mr. Dersingham.
Came in for some Sahibs. Got somebody with him
too, new to me, well set up gentleman, with a good
cigar in his mouth, a very good cigar. You'll know who
I mean?"