After that he laughed, also to himself, and swerved the car neatly to avoid half a brick which lay in the middle of the road. It was at that moment that he perceived, some distance in front, his friend Mr. Puddephatt. Mr. Puddephatt was apparently walking to Dunstable. Richard overtook him and drew up.
Mr. Puddephatt surveyed the Panhard askance.
‘Let you give me a lift?’ Mr. Puddephatt repeated. It was his habit to repeat the exact words of an interlocutor before giving a reply. ‘No, thanks,’ said he. ‘I’m walking to Dunstable Station for exercise.’
‘What are you going to Dunstable Station for?’ asked Richard.
‘I’m for Lunnon--horse sale at the Elephant and Castle. Perhaps you know the Elephant and Castle, sir?’
‘I’ll give you a lift to London, if you like,’ said Richard, seizing the chance of companionship, of which he was badly in need. ‘We shall get there quite as soon as your train.’
Mr. Puddephatt eyed the car suspiciously. He had no sympathy with motor-cars.
‘Am I afraid?’ he repeated. ‘No,’ he said, ‘I ain’t afraid. But I’d sooner be behind a three-year-old than behind one of them things. But I’ll try it and see how I like it. And thank ye, sir.’
So Mr. Puddephatt journeyed with Richard to London.
Perhaps it was fate that induced Mr. Puddephatt, when they had discussed the weather, horses, motor-cars, steam-ploughs, wine, parish councils, London, and daily papers, to turn the conversation on to the subject of the Craigs. Mr. Puddephatt had had many and various dealings with the Craigs, and he recounted to Richard the whole of them, one after another, in detail. It seemed, from his narrative, that he had again and again, from sheer good-nature, saved the Craigs from the rapacity and unscrupulousness of the village community.
‘Nice young lady, that Miss Teresa,’ observed Mr. Puddephatt.
By this time they had passed through St. Albans and were well on the way to Edgware.
‘They do say,’ said Mr. Puddephatt, leaning back luxuriously against the cushions--‘they do say as she isn’t his daughter--not rightly.’
‘They say what?’ asked Richard quietly, all alert, but not choosing to seem so.
‘Oh!’ said Mr. Puddephatt, ‘I dare say it isn’t true. But it’s gotten about the village. Ye never know how them tales begin. I dare say it isn’t true. Bless ye, there’s lots o’ tales.’