‘I’ve got a perfect right, I can prove it—a MORAL right—the people must KNOW—’ came a squawk. Charles stiffened into weariness and disgust. Round from behind the row of shining black cars came a policeman leading Dogson by the arm. The scene was so obviously farcical that most of the drivers, and others who were standing about, grinned broadly or laughed outright. The constable, mellowed by the sudden relaxation of tension, condescended to say, as he passed, ‘Spotted him climbing into one of your cars. Trying to get access to the dock—hiding in the back as it drove in.’

Suddenly Dogson caught sight of Charles. ‘Here, Lumley,’ he called as the policeman marched him away, ‘you put in a word for me, will you? It might make all the difference.’

‘You know this man?’ said the policeman, halting. ‘If so, I shall have to ask you to come across to the Supervisor’s office as soon as you’re free and identify him.’

‘All right,’ Charles muttered. The pair clumped away. At that moment the signal was given that the drivers could carry on with moving their cars on to the docks. They broke up at once, and the next half-hour was devoted to the job in hand.

As soon as it was over, Charles went across to the Supervisor’s office and identified a sulking Dogson, giving his testimony that the fellow was harmless. He left by himself, leaving Dogson still being interrogated, but conscious that he had probably made all the difference for him between being fined and being released with a caution.

As he walked from the office to the dock gates, another figure fell into step beside him. It was Bunder. Charles wanted to speak, but he felt suddenly choked and unable to think of an opening remark. Bunder for his part remained absolutely silent. They passed into the street. Bunder held open the door of the first public house they came to, and in a moment they were sitting, with drinks before them, in a secluded corner of the saloon bar. Neither had yet spoken to the other.

Bunder looked across at Charles steadily. They sat motionless, with the untouched drinks on the table between them.

There was no doubt that Bunder was absolutely the master. Just at the moment when it seemed their silence was assuming the form of a contest to see who could hold out longest, he suddenly made a nonchalant gesture which indicated, with complete success, that the game was over and that the prize was awarded to himself; and spoke.

‘So you had a visit from a friend.’

‘Friend nothing,’ said Charles with a weak effort at resistance. ‘That fellow just knows who I am, that’s all.’

Once the words were out of his mouth he appreciated, horribly, their silly emptiness.