He was close up to the next stile before he saw a dark shape leaning against it. The man moved aside.
“Good-evening!” he said.
“Good-evening!” Morel answered, not noticing.
“Paul Morel?” said the man.
Then he knew it was Dawes. The man stopped his way.
“I’ve got yer, have I?” he said awkwardly.
“I shall miss my train,” said Paul.
He could see nothing of Dawes’s face. The man’s teeth seemed to chatter as he talked.
“You’re going to get it from me now,” said Dawes.
Morel attempted to move forward; the other man stepped in front of him.