When not in the active
discharge of his professional duties the policeman was a kindly man. He
bore Mr. Buffin no grudge.
"Um," said Mr. Buffin.
"Feeling fine, eh?"
"Um."
"Goin' round to see some of the chaps and pass them the time of day, I
shouldn't wonder?"
"Um."
"Well, you keep clear of that lot down in Frith Street, young feller.
They're no good. And if you get mixed up with them, first thing you
know, you'll be in trouble again. And you want to keep out of that
now."
"Um."
"If you never get into trouble," said the policeman sententiously,
"you'll never have to get out of it."
"Um," said Mr. Buffin. If he had a fault as a conversationalist, it was
a certain tendency to monotony, a certain lack of sparkle and variety
in his small-talk.
Constable Keating, with a dignified but friendly wave of the hand, as
one should say, "You have our leave to depart," went on his way; while
Mr. Buffin, raging, shuffled off in the opposite direction, thinking as
hard as his limited mental equipment would allow him.
His thoughts, which were many and confused, finally composed themselves
into some order. He arrived at a definite conclusion, which was that if
the great settlement was to be carried through successfully it must be
done when the policeman was off duty.
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