But the Clockwork man made no reply. He was evidently absorbed in the effort to restart some process in himself. Presently his foot went down on the pavement with a smart bang. There followed a succession of sharp explosions, and the next second he glided smoothly away.
The constable returned furtively to his shelter beneath the arch, hitched himself thoughtfully, and found half a cigarette inside his waistcoat pocket.
"It's the gin," he ruminated, half out loud, "I'll 'ave to knock it off. 'Tain't as though I ain't 'ad warnings enough. I've seen things before and I shall see them again--"
He lit the cigarette end and puffed out a cloud of smoke. "I never see 'im," he soliloquised, "not _really_."
Perhaps it was the strong glare of light issuing from the half-open door of the Templar's Hall that attracted the attention of the Clockwork man as he wandered along towards the lower end of the town. He entered, and found himself in a small lobby curtained off from the main body of the hall. He must have made some slight noise as he stepped upon the bare boards, for the curtain was swept hastily back, and the Curate, who was acting as chief steward of the proceedings, came hurriedly forward.
As he approached the figure standing beneath the incandescent lamp, the clerical beam upon the Curate's clean-shaven features deepened into a more secular expression of heartfelt relief.
"I'm so glad you have come at last," he began, in a strong whisper, "I was beginning to be afraid you were going to disappoint us."
"I am certainly late," remarked the Clockwork man, "about eight thousand years late, so far as I can judge."
The Curate scarcely seemed to catch this remark. "Well, I'm glad you've turned up," he went on, "it's so pitiful when the little ones have to be disappointed, and they have been so looking forward to the conjuring. Your things have arrived."
"What things?" enquired the Clockwork man.
"Your properties," said the Curate, "the rabbits and mice, and so forth. They came this afternoon. I had them put on the stage."
He fingered nervously with his watch, and then his eye rested for a second upon the other's head gear.
"Excuse me, but you _are_ the conjurer, aren't you?" he enquired, a trifle anxiously.