"'The Man Who Calls Himself Hamilton Cleek.

"That's how I know, dash you! Superintendent sent me out after him, hot
foot; and after a bit I picked him up in the Strand, toddling along with
that French hussy as cool as you please. But, blow him! he must have
eyes all round his head, for he saw me just as soon as I saw him, and he
and Frenchy separated like a shot. She hopped into a taxi and flew off
in one direction; he dived into a crowd and bolted in another, and
before you could say Jack Robinson he was doubling and twisting, jumping
into cabs and jumping out again--all to gain time, of course, for the
woman to do what he'd put her up to doing--and leading me the devil's
own chase through the devil's own tangle till he was ready to bunk for
the Embankment. And you let him go, you blooming footler! Had him and
let him go, and chucked away a third of £200 for the price of half a
quid!"

And long after Smathers and Petrie had left him, and the wondering crowd
had dispersed, and point duty at "Dead Man's Corner" was just point duty
again and nothing more, P.C. Collins stood there, chewing the cud of
bitter reflection over those words, and trying to reckon up just how
many pounds and how much glory had been lost to him.




II


"But, damme, sir, the thing's an outrage! I don't mince my words, Mr.