Whether this referred to the thrush that had just then flown away, or to Dimity Stone, Wolf could not tell.

“I can give you two pounds of that five pounds straight off,” he said, “if you’ll let me come in with you now and put the thing in my pocket.”

“And the other three?” cried the man, rising to his feet between the cucumber-frames and rubbing the back of his trousers with his hand.

“The other three next week,” said Wolf, thinking to himself, “I don’t care what happens, as long as I dispose of Mukalog.”

“Come on then, quick, before anyone sees!”