Paddock used to arrive punctually at 7.30 and let himself in with a latch-key.

But about twenty minutes to seven, as I knew from bitter experience, the milkman turned up with a great clatter of cans, and deposited my share outside my door.

I had seen that milkman sometimes when I had gone out for an early ride.

He was a young man about my own height, with an ill-nourished moustache, and he wore a white overall.

On him I staked all my chances.
I went into the darkened smoking-room where the rays of morning light were beginning to creep through the shutters.