but then that may be only your dam artfulness. Come on and talk to the
Sergeant."

The Railway Police-Sergeant briskly inquired his name, address, occupation
and all the rest of it. Hobbs gave a good account of himself and mentioned
that he had worked in our family for forty-two years.

"Any visiting-cards, correspondence or other papers to identify you?" asked
the Sergeant mechanically. He had said it so often to the people who cry
"Season! Season!" when there is no Season.

Hobbs confessed to having none of these things; and no, he knew no one in
London.

"Then you'll stay here till four," pronounced the Sergeant, "and we'll see
if this good lady of yours comes along."

But, alas! no Mrs. Hobbs appeared. "Must have missed the train," suggested
Hobbs despairingly. "P'r'aps the trap broke down or something."

There was only one more train, it seemed, and that was not due until nine.

"Oh, I don't think my missus 'ud like to be so late as that," said the
suspect. "She'd wait till the morning. I don't reckon she'll come
to-night."

"No more don't I." The constable was beginning to enjoy himself. "If I was
you I should drop the bluff and own I was fair caught. If you was to ask
me, I should say you didn't look like a married man at all. We'll see what
the Sergeant says now."