Mr. Ludgrove nodded. “I hope to catch the 12:35 from Liverpool Street tomorrow,” he replied.

“Weed hunting, as usual?” said Mr. Copperdock facetiously.

“If you like to call it so,” answered Mr. Ludgrove. “As you know, I employ most of my weekends looking for our rarer English plants. It has become the custom to sneer at the simple remedies of our ancestors, but I assure you that there are plants growing in the hedgerow, if one can only find them, which will cure almost any human complaint, and it is my favourite practice to seek for them.”

Mr. Copperdock shook his head. “Can’t say as I should find much fun in it,” he said. “Too lonely a business altogether. I likes to have someone to talk to when I’m on a holiday. And where might you be going this time?”