102 ANGEL PAVEMENT

dared mention the word "tie." And now this chap
comes along with his "You've forgotten to put your tie
on/' Mr. Smeeth began *:o chuckle softly.

Mr. Golspie piloted him across the road and into the
private bar of the White Horse,

"Give it a name/* said Mr. Golspie.

"Thanks, Mr. Golspie. Oh-er-just a glass of bitter,"
said Mr. Smeeth modestly, from behind his large cigar,

"Don't have a glass of bitter. Too cold a night like
this and after a hard day's work too. Have a whisky.
That's right. Two double whiskies and some soda."

It was quiet and cosy in the White Horse. Mr.
Smeeth had not been in for a long time, and he was en-
joying this. The fire winked cheerfully over the grate;
the rows of liqueur bottles glimmered and glittered; the
glasses shone softly; there was a pleasant hum of talk;
the cigars plunged them at once into an atmosphere of
rich, fragrant, luxurious conviviality; the whisky tasted
good, and washed away that foggy, smoky, railway
tunnel flavour of Angel Pavement; and Mr. Golspie, still
mysterious and masterful but genial now too, was obvi-
ously anxious they should be on friendly terms.

"You've got a fellow working in the Midlands and
the North, haven't you?" Mr, Golspie inquired, after
they had both taken a pull at their whiskies, "What's
he like?"

"Dobson? He's a decent young chap, and he's got
a good connection up there. He's not sold much lately
but it's not been for the want of trying."
"We ought to be hearing from him soon, then/' said

Mr. Golspie. "If he can't sell these new veneers, he'd

better be walking. They sell themselves. We've orders

pouring in, just pouring. But, mind you, Smeeth,