I thought he seemed chippier than ever this morning when he went out.

His last words were that he'd bet me a packet of Woodbines that he landed the old fool." "He's gone dotty!" the auctioneer decided, as he turned back towards his sanctum.

"He's either gone dotty or he's been drinking.

The last chap in the world I should have thought it of!" The mental attitude of Alfred Burton, as he emerged into the street, was in some respects curious.

He was not in the least sorry for what had happened.