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People sprang, it seemed, from
nowhere, and jostled about Prothero, so that he became a peripheral
figure in the discussion. He perceived that a man in a green apron
was holding the horse, and that various people were engaged in
simultaneous conversation with Benham, who with a pale serenity of
face and an awful calm of manner, dealt with each of them in turn.
"I'm sorry," he was saying. "Somebody ought to have been in charge
of the barrow. Here are my cards. I am ready to pay for any
damage. . . .
"The barrow ought not to have been there. . . .
"Yes, I am going on. Of course I'm going on. Thank you."
He beckoned to the man who had held the horse and handed him half-a-
crown. He glanced at Prothero as one might glance at a stranger.
"Check!" he said. The horse went on gravely. Benham lifted out his
whip. He appeared to have clean forgotten Prothero. Perhaps
presently he would miss him. He went on past Trinity, past the
ruddy brick of St. John's. The curve of the street hid him from
Prothero's eyes.
Prothero started in pursuit.


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