His eyes opened at the sight of the gold, and he grinned broadly. “Wot’s the

gyme?”he asked.

 

“A bet,” I said. “I haven’t time to explain, but to win it I’ve got to be a

milkman for the next ten minutes. All you’ve got to do is to stay here till I

come back. You’ll be a bit late, but nobody will complain, and you’ll have that

quid for yourself.”

 

“Right-o!” he said cheerily. “I ain’t the man to spoil a bit of sport. ’Ere’s

the rig, guv’nor.”

 

I stuck on his flat blue hat and his white overall, picked up the cans, banged

my door, and went whistling downstairs. The porter at the foot told me to shut

my jaw, which sounded as if my make-up was adequate.

 

At first I thought there was nobody in the street. Then I caught sight of a

policeman a hundred yards down, and a loafer shuffling past on the other side.

Some impulse made me raise my eyes to the house opposite, and there at a

first-floor window was a face. As the loafer passed he looked up, and I fancied

a signal was exchanged.

 

I crossed the street, whistling gaily and imitating the jaunty swing of the

milkman. Then I took the first side street, and went up a left-hand turning

which led past a bit of vacant ground. There was no one in the little street, so