Mr. Evans rose and stretched himself gracefully. "You'd better run
indoors, my good man," he said, slowly.

"Telling all them lies about burglars," continued the indignant Mr.
Grummit, producing his newspaper and waving it. "Why, I gave you that
black eye, I smashed your 'elmet, I cut your silly 'ead open, I----"

"You've been drinking," said the other, severely.

"You mean to say I didn't?" demanded Mr. Grummit, ferociously.

Mr. Evans came closer and eyed him steadily. "I don't know what you're
talking about," he said, calmly.

Mr. Grummit, about to speak, stopped appalled at such hardihood.

"Of course, if you mean to say that you were one o' them burglars,"
continued the constable, "why, say it and I'll take you with pleasure.
Come to think of it, I did seem to remember one o' their voices."

Mr. Grummit, with his eyes fixed on the other's, backed a couple of yards
and breathed heavily.

"About your height, too, he was," mused the constable. "I hope for your
sake you haven't been saying to anybody else what you said to me just
now."

Mr. Grummit shook his head. "Not a word," he faltered.

"That's all right, then," said Mr. Evans. "I shouldn't like to be hard