Nobody knew better than Mr. George Thorold, the senior partner of Thorold and Son, the well-known Gippingford brewers, that in these days of highly-taxed beer it would not be an easy matter to find a tenant for the Rose and Crown. Consequently, when Hugh Dunsford called to see him and announced his intention of giving up the house, Mr. Thorold listened to him with a slight frown upon his handsome features.

"It's like this, you see, sir," explained Dunsford, an elderly man, short of stature, and with that curious furtive, half-mistrustful air not uncommon among the natives of East Anglia. "There's not a decent living to be made at the Rose and Crown, and that's a fact. I'm not saying that the place wasn't a little gold-mine before the war, but those times are gone. A chap can't afford his couple of pints of an evening with beer at the price it is, leastways the chaps about High Eldersham can't. I might hold on if I was a single man, sir, but you see there's the missus and the family to think of."

"Yes, I know how difficult things are for the tenants of the smaller houses," replied Mr. Thorold. "You know that we would do everything we could to keep you. What do you think of doing when you give up the Rose and Crown?"

Dunsford coughed awkwardly. "Well, sir, I did hear that old Hawkins, of the Tower of London in this town, was going to retire. And I was going to make so bold as to ask you, seeing that it's one of your houses, if you'd consider me in his place. There's a fine trade to be done there, and I could manage it proper, with my boy Dick and the missus to help me."

Mr. Thorold picked up a pencil that was lying on his desk, and began to trace a series of complicated geometrical figures on a piece of paper that lay before him. It was true that Hawkins intended to retire in the following September, and it was certain that Dunsford, whose father before him had been a tenant of the brewery, would make an excellent landlord for the Tower of London. But the problem of the Rose and Crown presented itselfwith all its manifold difficulties. It stood in an isolated spot, and customers were few and far between. There was nothing about the house to tempt a man who wanted to earn money by the trade. And besides, it would take a stranger — a foreigner, as High Eldersham dubbed any one not born in the immediate neighbourhood — months, perhaps years, to establish that confidence so essential between a landlord and his local customers.

"Well, Dunsford," said Mr. Thorold after a long pause, "you and your parents have been friends of the brewery far too long for me to stand in your way, even if I wanted to. Of course you can have the Tower of London if you want the house, and I shall be very glad to know that it is in such good hands, and to have you here in Gippingford. But I'm sure I don't know who I shall get to take your place at the Rose and Crown. You don't happen to know of anybody out your way who would like it, do you?"

Dunsford shook his head, "No, sir, that I don't," he replied. "'Tisn't as if the place had a bit o' land with it, so as a chap could pick up a bit with a few cows or something o' that. There isn't nobody round High Eldersham way as could do any good with the Rose and Crown, trade being what it is. Why, as I tell you, sir, I can't myself."

"Then I'm sure nobody else could," remarked Mr. Thorold, with a smile. "Well, I shall have to see what can be done, that's all. Since you are here, we may as well go into the matter of your tenancy of the Tower of London."