76 THE RETURN OF ALFRED
He had all the time there was, as the Americans say, why not stay on for a few days and see what Drama really had in her pouch?
At the end of an hour he turned and retraced his steps. As he neared Little Bilstead again, he found himself more than ever reluctant to abandon what promised to afford an interesting, not to say exciting, adventure.
As he entered the village for the second time, it was obvious that unseen eyes had been on the watch.
The whole place seemed suddenly to have come to life. Groups of women stood at their doors, and there was a generous sprinkling of men.
As Smith approached they seemed all to be smitten with a great silence. Some saluted him as "Mist' Alfred"; but there was no cordiality in either their looks or their words.
At the door of The Pigeons stood a big man with a bald head surrounded by a fringe of sandy hair, a heavily jowled face, with small pig-like eyes destitute of lashes.
"Morning, Mist' Alfred," he called out when Smith was within a pace or two of him.
Smith nodded and paused.
"Surprising seeing you back," said the man.
For a moment Smith hesitated as to whether or no he should enlighten the fellow as to his real identity; but he decided that it would be useless to do so; for wherever he went he was accepted as "Mr. Alfred" without question.
"Seen Bob Thirkettle?" enquired the man with a sly look in his little eyes.
"Bob Thirkettle," repeated Smith. "No, who's he?
