"Here's more of your mess-work, unless I'm mistaken," said I.
"Mine?" He looked at me with a dazed face. "Mine?" he quavered.
"Oh, but what has happened? . . . There would seem to be some
conspiracy. . . ."
"Yes, you interfering ass. Out with you, quick! and we'll talk
later." I turned my shoulder on him as I handed the driver his fare.
"Now follow and keep close to me."
I stepped forward to meet the Sergeant in charge of the convoy.
He would have put me aside. "Sorry, sir, but you must tell your man
to take you round by the next bridge. Traffic closed here--half an
hour, maybe." Then he caught sight of Farrell behind my shoulder,
recognised him, and called his party to a halt. "Excuse me," he
said, with a fine official manner committing him to no approval of
us, "but is this the Candidate? . . . Well, you've come prompt, sir,
but scarcely prompt enough. Situation's in hand, so to speak.
Still you might be useful, getting the crowd to clear off peaceable."
He pondered for a couple of seconds. "Yes, I'll step back with you
to the gate, sirs, and pass you in.
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